


No One's Children

by Belfire



Category: Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), Teen Titans - All Media Types
Genre: Abusive Parents, Age Difference, And Rose be an emo, Brother-Sister Relationships, Child Neglect, Childhood Trauma, Consensual Underage Sex, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Has Issues, F/M, Foster Care, Heart Conditions, Joey has teenage angst, Just let Grant Wilson sleep, M/M, Mental Instability, Past Child Abuse, Protective Older Brothers, Rose is very clued in, Self-Harm, Siblings parenting, Stepping Up, Teenage Drama, Underage Drinking, and a considerably older man in his life, no capes AU, so pedophilia i suppose
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-03-07 08:11:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 45,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18869233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Belfire/pseuds/Belfire
Summary: One family tragedy leads Joey and Rose to another in the form of their estranged older brother. Orphaned, neither desperately wanted to move to New York and in with a tattooed stranger they share their last name with. They didn't know Grant, Grant didn't know them. They were hardly family. Hardly anything. And after what 'family' put them through, who needed it?





	1. Step Up and Over

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vamplamp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vamplamp/gifts).



> Instead of my usual slew of justifications for why I did this, I'm just gonna say dedicated to vamplamp, my fellow Wilson enthusiast and all 'round lovely reader. Thanks for existing, my dude, you're an angel <3 
> 
> (Ps, there are some versions where Adeline is Rose's mother, it's what we're sticking to here)

It was one of those days where he just needed to sleep. Working through the night and finishing his shift two hours ago, Grant Wilson wasn't ready for a social worker to knock on the door of his New York apartment at eight AM.

Drowsy as all fuck, he was afraid the weight of the bags under his eyes would make his head capsize when he warily parted the door and stared through a bleary vision at the woman standing there. She was dressed in a tan pencil skirt and matching chiffon dress shirt, the hands clasped in front of her holding a black document file. Her lank hair was in a bun above her head, so tight it pulled the wrinkles on her forehead taut. Half-moon glasses completed the office worker look, sitting atop her small thin nose and shifting when she frowned at his lethargic state.

She was staring at his crumpled tank top and worn-out light blue jeans, tattoos and lip ring, messy hair and scarred arms with all kinds of silent judgement. If she'd had the night he did, she'd be a disgruntled state too.

" _Grant Wilson_?" She asked like it was an accusation. He winced at her voice, it was adenoidal, penetrating enough for him to feel violated. It was too damn early for human interaction and definitely this sort.

" _Yes_?" He offered it as a question because he had a feeling he didn't want to be him right then.

"I'm Lori Cantrell with Maine Child Protective Services, I've been requested by the state to contact you on some matters concerning your family."

Oh shit. Not  _those_  people. Blowing his cheeks out, Grant pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes for a second. He needed to clear a passage for clarity in thought. He'd assumed it was perfectly clear he wanted nothing to do with Slade and Adeline. So changing his address for the third time did nothing to throw them off his trail? Fuck. This better not be something to do with Adeline wanting him over for the holidays again. Honest to God, Grant would put his head through a brick wall if he heard that line one more time.

He exhaled when he lifted his head from his hand a moment later.

"Look, Miss Cantrell, I haven't seen my parents in five years, I don't see what they could want from me."

"Not your parents, Grant." Stepping a foot back, she gestured behind her to the children he'd somehow not seen until then. Two blondes, platinum and sunshine, wavy and curly like noodles, staring at him. The reluctant and quick glance came from the large green eyes of the older teenager, the boy, subconsciously rubbing his right wrist through his sleeve in some kind of nervous habit.

Rose didn't have Joey's hesitancy, she stared at Grant with bold obviousness, blinking slowly past her own visible weariness. She yawned, stretching her arms over her head.

"Hello, brother." Rose dully greeted, voice flat from tiredness. Her eye was surrounded by blackness and he assumed that was the case with the other one as well, he just couldn't see it behind the veil of her hair, swooped over half her face. Briefly, Grant studied her and her Jack Skellington T-shirt, snugly fitting black skinny jeans and the various bits of skull themed jewellery. Around her waist was a thick studded belt with a decorative chain hanging from it.

His little sister was an emo. That was unexpected.

Along with his parents, Grant hadn't seen his baby siblings in over four years and they'd gotten so big. What were they, fifteen and thirteen now? They had to be somewhere around there. But that didn't explain why they showed up like this at his front door, after all this time and with a social worker, no less.

Bewildered, his gaze travelled slowly from his brother and sister to Miss Cantrell, standing there in the wait for his reaction. He better make it a good one, they weren't here for an idle drop by. Even with his brain running on eight hours of sleep from the past week, he could tell something had happened.

Without another word, he stepped aside to let them enter and Miss Cantrell gave a thankful nod of her head, brushing by and urging the kids with her. They both stared at Grant with mixed emotions when they went inside and he shared in the sentiment. He didn't know what he should be thinking or fearing right now.

* * *

 

Holy shit. Head grasped in both hands as he sat on the edge of the couch, Grant was aware Miss Cantrell was still speaking but he couldn't make out the words. Dad's in jail, it's about time. Mom's dead, it was bound to happen but... like this? His mother was many things, but he never would have imagined her capable of deliberately crashing her car into a railing with Joey and Rose in the back. She died on impact, the kids were hurt but he didn't catch the specifics. 

The shock made it difficult to settle into this abrupt wave of new information.

Parting his fingers over his face, Grant glanced through them into the kitchen while Cantrell droned on. He caught a glimpse of Joey sitting by the table with an untouched glass of water and Rose opposite him, typing on her phone, one knee drawn. They both looked fine as if they hadn't been in a severely traumatic accident a month prior. However, neither was talkative in the least. Could be because of what happened or that they were with an utter stranger, but Joey stayed completely mum while Rose only opened her mouth to ask Grant for his WiFi password. 

They were both so disturbingly unbothered but he supposed they'd had time to process it already. Meanwhile, this was all news to him.

"... It took us a month to find next of kin," Cantrell's voice forced its way into his bubble and he gingerly returned his vision to her, chin nestled in the cradle of his palms.

"You're not easy to track down, Mr Wilson." Yeah, that's exactly how he intended it. That's why he moved ten hours away from his hometown in Maine. That's why he cut all contact with his blood ties. He didn't want to be found and recent circumstance didn't allow him the luxury. Dammit, Slade and Adeline were screwing him over from hundreds of miles away. 

"What do you want from me?" Exhaling, Grant asked, finally straightening his posture to not be so slumped over. It was beginning to get uncomfortable but it was the last thing on his mind. Was he supposed to be experiencing emotion? The fact that his mother was dead hit an empty numb spot in him and there was no chance he might cry just because she was gone. He had no tears left for her but a tiny part of him wanted to have misery stir, if only to feel ordinary. 

" _Well_ ," Cantrell crossed her legs and leaned forward, fingers lacing before her.

"Your brother and sister have been in foster care since the accident, until we could find living relatives and as you know, your father isn't an option." Oh no. Oh no, no, no. Grant did  _not_  like where she was steering this. Already, he was putting together a plan to break Slade out of the joint. 

".... And as a legal adult and their brother, you're the only hope they have of not ending up in the system." Crap. He'd known they were going to wind up here. Inwardly, he gave a long breath out and braced himself for a good solid absolutely fucking not. He was not in the position where he could financially support himself, his girlfriend  _and_  two teenagers. Nope, nada, sorry, not happening.

"Of course, the state would provide you with financial support. You could expect an average of four hundred and fifty dollars a week for each child to cover the cost of food, clothing, education and other small things."

Okay, so no direct drain on his income but still  _no_. Uh.... Carol would lose her head and he didn't have time to balance work, life in general and his siblings. They'd need guidance, a role model, support, attention, schedules, routines, all things he didn't know how to do. 

"Miss Cantrell, I am the worst person for Joey and Rose. You'd know that if you'd run a background check on me." Here's hoping his criminal record and several to-be-frowned-upon actions would make her realise the disaster she was here to cause.

"I did." Cantrell responded. "Grant, you haven't been incarcerated for two years, you've stayed on the right side of the law and seem to have straightened your life out. I don't see a problem in that department." Dammit. His lengthy history of run-ins with the cops wasn't half as convincing as he'd gotten his hopes up for. Could nothing sway this woman?

Catching wind of his reluctance, Cantrell sighed, removing her glasses to rub at her eyes. She pinched the bridge of her nose, a blood vein in her forehead sticking out.

"I know this is a lot but I need you to realise what's at stake here. I can't make you take on the role of guardian to your brother and sister, you're within your rights to send them away but if you do, they'll be put into foster care."

Gravely, she lifted her head to look him dead in the eye with severity he hadn't seen the likes of.

" _First_ , they'll be separated and chances are, they won't see each other again. They'll be processed by the state and put into the system until the first foster home has a vacancy. One out of nine foster parents are abusers who should never be allowed near children. Over six million foster kids run away each year and fifty percent end up homeless and dying prematurely thereafter..... I understand you have experience with some of those factors." 

Surprised by the extent she'd done her research, Grant gave a grim nod. It seemed all too real when she started throwing statistics at him. 

"Then you understand the possibilities you would be condemning your brother and sister to."

Molars cutting into the meat of his cheek, he nodded again. The sharp and factual way Cantrell spoke made him feel immense guilt despite being culpable of nothing. Grant knew what she was doing, making him feel accountable for anything bad that might happen to Joey and Rose if he didn't take them under his wing. He saw the trick but couldn't look past it, which proved it was working, he guessed. 

Those things Cantrell listed scared him to his marrow for his siblings' sake. He may have taken an express train out of their lives but still found himself invested in what became of them. Grant realised he didn't want anything remotely similar to those outcomes to be Rose and Joey. 

He couldn't let his siblings be statistics but he didn't know how to fucking  _parent_! He didn't have any clue about how kids worked. He'd fuck it up before Cantrell could be out of the city, he knew it. 

Feeling one kick away from complete defeat, Grant found himself slumped over again, head hurting from all the questions and answers and choices threatening to choke him. If he said no, whatever came next was his fault. If he said yes... then he didn't have any idea what. It wasn't like agreeing meant he'd never have to think about it again. Quite the contrary. 

At some point during his loud inner-conflict, Cantrell leaned close enough to place her hand over his shoulder and squeeze it ever-so-slightly.

"I know this is a hard decision to make and it shouldn't be your responsibility, but guess what?" She sat back and he gave her a glance. 

"What?"

"It is now." Cantrell replied with authority and a 'shit happens but get on with it' attitude about her that would make anyone want to step up and over the obstacle. 

"I won't fault you for finding it challenging, you would be stupid not to, but if you don't even try you'll live up to your family name." .... Fucking  _ouch_. This was manipulation, it had to be, was it legal to give him this verbal dressing down? At this point, Grant was afraid of getting shivved if his response wasn't what Cantrell wanted. She was passionate about her job, the most dangerous kind of person there was. 

Apparently, she knew Grant Wilson like the back of her hand since if there was one thing he would never be, it was his parents. Never ever. 

His chest itself caved in with the sigh when he lost every ounce of protest that had kept him alive this long.

"Is there something I need to sign or...?"

Cantrell's serious stern expression faded, replaced with a professional polite smile.

"The documents are in the car. I'll be back up with them in a moment." A job well done, a man effectively manipulated, she brushed invisible particles of dust from her skirt as she rose, leaving him alone to brood in the living room.

The magnitude of what he just agreed to hadn't hit yet but he was already aware his girlfriend, Carol, would lose her shit over this. This was her home too and he hadn't posed the question of whether or not he could extend it to his brother and sister. Carol didn't like kids or inconveniences, this wouldn't sit well. This would be hell.

God, he could see a nuclear explosion on the horizon. 

When Grant lifted his head again, he was surprised Joey and Rose had silently come into the room but he'd have to get used to it, these radical changes ensured it. They were utter strangers now expected to live as they were born,  _family_. That...  _that_  was a hard concept. 

Thoughtfully, Grant turned his lip ring with his tongue, silver hoop gliding around the corner of his mouth and his eyes flitted to his baby siblings. 

"Are... are you two-" 

His question was cut off by a notebook being hurled at him, hitting the wall a foot from where it would had struck him. Jesus Christ.

Fixed on his brother, Joey's usually cherubic features were scrunched up into an aggressive glare and he stormed past, fists clenched, locking himself in the bathroom with a slam of the door hitting its frame. Startled, Grant jumped at the sound, confused by the outburst and he shot his little sister a look.

"What the hell was that?" 

Idly turning her heel into the floor, Rose shrugged her shoulders like it was no big deal. 

"He wanted you to say no."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Carol is actually Grant's canon girlfriend at one point. That's right, it's an AU where we will be using canon facts, I can't even believe it. This fic exists because dammit, I need Wilson family storylines that don't include incest. So here we are.


	2. Day Ten

Fastidiously running the rough bristles of a toothbrush back and forth over his teeth, Grant warily stared at himself in the wide bathroom mirror and attempted to smooth down the jagged mess of sable spikes calling itself hair. It wasn't working. No matter how many times he ran his fingers through, his locks insisted on being the mess of the century.

Other than this situation, that is.

When he woke up, he'd been sure it was a dream and his siblings were, in fact,  _not_  living with him. In his head, they resided safely in Maine, hours away with an alive mentally stable mother.

And then the blaring alarm clock tore through that fantasy with its shrill scream and he had to get up to drive his brother and sister to their new school in an hour.

Sighing for the countless time, Grant rinsed the left over toothpaste out his mouth and straightening, popped the bathroom cabinet open. The shelves were swelling with his girlfriend's beauty creams and lotions and eyelash serums but he ignored the clatter, snatching up the orange pill bottle with a certain amount of displeasure. He was especially unhappy when he rolled two onto his palm and eyed the dull red capsules.

They were ACE inhibitors, turned out he needed them for a heart condition he was born with, gone undiagnosed until the year before when it got considerably worse and he... had a work related accident. Just another thing to add to the growing list of why life hated him.

Grim this deep into his own head, Grant swallowed them down dry and stared at his reflection, hands gripping the sink tight. He leaned against it and found his tongue absently rolling the piercing while staring into his own husky blue eyes in the mirror. He repeated the mantra of 'it's okay, I can do this. It's not that hard. I can do it'. One day at a time, for five years until both Rose and Joey were eighteen. Five years wasn't  _that_  long.

"Grant?" Rose was standing by the open door and he made a point to tuck the pill bottle back into the cabinet before she saw it, but her gaze followed it unashamedly, asking all kinds of silent questions when it was him she focused on again.

"Yes,  _Rose_?" Grant brushed his hair back through his fingers before he had to answer anything. He didn't feel as vexed as he came off, he was just really fucking tired. It was apparently going to get easier once he settled into this new routine of finishing work at six AM and taking his siblings to school two hours later, pick them up at three and work again at seven. He was ready to  _die._  Legit, he sensed another heart failure was just around the corner.

And today was going to be  _especially_  stressful.

"We're gonna be late." Tone flat, Rose let him know as if Grant needed to be reminded he was fucking this up big time. He entertained the idea of failing his new responsibilities so epically that Cantrell would have no choice but to drive up from Maine to take Joey and Rose back.

"Grab your backpack, we'll leave in five." Grant speed-walked past her, out into the living room in the search for his little brother. Joey had been making life particularly difficult, which was odd since he was supposed to be the golden boy. Just a week in, Grant realised hunting him down and forcing him into class was going to become a ritual.

" _Joseph_! Joseph, I am not playing this game with you today." Irritated, Grant yelled Joey's name into the empty halls, he'd found not sticking to the cute pet name held a lot more weight. Not that the little mite cared. He kicked up a fight any chance he got.

Opposite his and Carol's bedroom, there was the spare one he'd modified for his siblings. He didn't live in a big enough apartment where they wouldn't have to share, but this gave them some sense of privacy and personal space. This was permanent, after all, might as well act like it.

"Jo, your teacher already hates me," Grant monologued while he pushed the kids' room door open and went in to check beneath the beds. He dropped onto all fours to peer into the dark space but Joey had smartened up enough to not use the same hiding spot twice.

Grant gave a suffering sigh when he pushed himself back onto his feet.

"If you're late one more time, Miss Blanchard going to have my head. And not in the fun way..." His gaze flitted over the room, across the sparse furniture and bare side that belonged to Joey. He hadn't put any of his things away into the cupboards or shelves as if this was a temporary thing.

Rose, on the other hand, had adjusted remarkably fast. Her half of the bedroom was decorated with posters and a Twenty-One Pilots bedspread. A stuffed kitten he remembered her getting on her fifth birthday sat on her pillows. Encyclopedias ran the length of the bookshelf above her bed, she liked to read, he'd learned. Not any specific book or piece of fiction, Rose consumed literature in any way, shape, or form.

Yesterday, Grant caught her reading the King James bible at the dinner table.

Giving up since Joey obviously wasn't in there, Grant moved his search to the kitchen next. God, he hated teenagers and their angst. At just nineteen-years-old, he already felt like an elderly man who would start finding streaks of grey hair soon.

Bent over the counter top with her elbows resting on it, Carol was chewing gum loudly when he came in, smiling at her phone screen while she updated her Instagram story. A certain amount of implants later and Grant had to wonder if it hurt her chest to press on any surface like that.

"Did Joey come through here?" He asked briskly when he entered, already checking behind the door and under the table. The wet gum chewing continued and disinterested, Carol said something that might have been part of the English language in a distant sense. Did Grant expect an actual  _helpful_  reaction from her? Nope, he'd been in the far away reaches of the silent treatment the past week.

He understood why she wasn't happy with him, letting a couple of teenagers move in without consulting her first but dammit, this wasn't fun for him either. He didn't love spending his mornings on the prowl for little brothers.

He didn't  _love_  any of this.

"Grant, he's in the car." Rose appeared on his left, scaring him with her abrupt presence again but he managed to hide all signs of it. He was getting used to this because he had to fucking get used to it. This was normal now. This is how it would be.

" _Awesome_." Grant muttered, feeling all kinds of blackness rolling over like a storm in him. Why did he agree to this? Why the fuck did he think this was doable? Rose was easy enough to handle but  _Joseph_....

He was almost out the door with his little sister when Carol finally pulled her nose from her phone and caught his hand. Rolling his eyes in his head, Grant turned on his heel a little more briskly than he meant to but Carol didn't notice his don't-touch-me-right-now vibe. Blinking her big brown eyes framed by thick exaggerated lash extensions, she gave him a sweet smile.

Grant could tell she was about to ask for something.

"Babe, I need you to pick up almond milk and vegan pancake mix."

And he was right. Damn Instagram personalities and their vegan everything.

"Not sure I'll have time, Carol. I have to take them to school, take the car to the shop, cover Lahey's shift, get the car, get the kids, get my shift-"

"Can't  _they_  take the subway?"

" _No_. The subway's filled with pedos and perverts and rapists and murderers." He wasn't paranoid or overprotective, those were just the facts.

Carol rolled her eyes, smacking her gum. Now Grant loved her like life but sometimes, especially recently, she'd been testing his patience.

"Baby, you're choosing them over me  _again_."

"Maybe you can get your own nut milk and let my brother rest?" Standing beside the couple, Rose stared darkly up at Carol, hair hiding half of her face as always but the expression was menacing nonetheless.

"Grant hasn't slept for four days. Overexertion of the body can lead to congestive heart failure and my brother is already a risk factor."

" _Rose_." Grant snapped with bite, unsure if he was annoyed his sister was badmouthing his girlfriend or that she was reminding him of his own mortality.

"Get in the car. Let's go." He jerked his head toward the door and Rose obediently went, but not without a side-eye in Carol's direction.

"Sorry, babe," He leaned over to kiss her cheek. Not for the first time, he was apologising for his siblings.

"I'll be back later -  _with_  your almond milk." He said it over his shoulder, jogging out with Joey's forgotten backpack wrapped around his hand and burdened by the knowledge he was ten minutes behind schedule.

"And vegan pancake mix!"

* * *

 

"... Remember I'm picking you up early today." Brother reminded and added a quick,

"To go get the rest of your stuff from Maine." Awkwardly, Grant adjusted the rear view mirror just to have something to look at that wasn't them. Joey fixed him a leer as he got out the car and slammed the door, storming off in the school's direction while Rose stayed put in the middle seat. They'd already missed first period, no point in hurrying. She could tell there was something unsaid lingering in the car that Grant wanted to get off his chest and hanging with him beat Joey's temper tantrums. He'd really not been easy to bare since mom killed herself.

"Rose, those pills..." Brother exhaled through his teeth, gripping the steering wheel with both hands, leather cover creaking.

"They were just aspirin, okay? Nothing to worry about." He assured and just for his sake, Rose nodded. She knew he was flat out lying, knew it from the moment he left the bathroom and she read what was on the back of that pill bottle. Quinapril was a drug her books would tell her converted enzymes, sped up chemical reactions required for the heart to pump blood at the rate it should. It was used to treat heart conditions and blood pressure issues, she knew her brother had the former.

But sure. Just aspirin. Rose supposed Grant didn't want her to have to worry about her newest guardian dropping dead.

There was a club going but she wouldn't mind if he didn't join it. Joey didn't share the sentiment.

"What time are you picking us up?" Rose inquired as she released herself from the restrain of her seatbelt. She grabbed her bag while her fingers slid into the door handle, watching her brother in the wait for his reply. Briefly, she found her eyes wandering the black ink swirls on his neck, forming an intricate tribal pattern that seemed to hold no meaning. It wasn't a geographical shape and that bothered her analytical mind immensely. The solid black of the tattoo stuck out against his dusky skin, Rose found herself wondering why he was so dark in comparison to their parents and family in general. He had sable hair, pitch black eye lashes, tan skin. What submerged genetic pit did he get  _pigment_  from?

"One thirty." Grant's voice pulled her out of thought.

"Could you make sure Joey doesn't get the chance to run away again? We won't make it to Maine before morning if I have to spend hours looking for him."

Rose bobbed her head.

"Sure, Grant." Leaning forward through the seats, she kissed his cheek before she got out without another word. Grant didn't ask why she did that, it was routine now that she express her gratitude in this meek manner. Joey neglected to realise it but it wasn't just the two of them who had their lives uprooted and thrown on its head.

This wasn't ideal for a single of the Wilson siblings.

Rose gave a low breath when she put her foot on the lowest step leading up to the high school's double doors. Day ten.

* * *

 

"You look  _dead_." Bette remarked with an arched brow when Grant dragged himself into the Kuutamo, practically falling over the gate leading behind the bar. He stumbled but caught himself just barely, letting the faint-headedness pass before he gave his best and only friend a glance.

"I feel dead." He flatly responded, hand tightening on the counter's edge. The bar wasn't open for business hours yet, no one except Bette were here to see his flip-flopping around. His fatigue should come as no surprise, she was aware of his current situation and how it meant he was running on fumes. At work, most customers would attribute the swaying and drowsiness to him being drunk, wouldn't they be surprised to discover the mixologist didn't drink?

"I told you, I can cover Lahey's shift. And yours, if you want." Bette spoke with an unmissable undertow of disapproval, grabbing him around the bicep and helping him get straightened out. Breathing a little heavier than he should, Grant leaned all his weight against the counter.

"I know but I... just need something to do." His gaze swam unevenly over the interior of the Kuutamo, the empty dance floor and cushioned booths, the small pallet wood stage where no entertainer could be paid enough to perform, and he wondered if he could crawl under there and-

"How about  _sleep_?" She folded her arms tightly, staring at him with a frown.

"Carol can watch the kids-"

"I can't do that to her. They're my problem."

" _First_  off," Bette was now glaring at him. "Don't let me catch you calling them that again. And  _second_ , that useless egirl you've burdened yourself with made a  _commitment_  to you, if she meant those 'I love yous', then she won't find it a hassle to step in when you're clearly not doing so well." She finished the mini-rant with no remorse and Grant watched her warily. Bette had never kept it secret she disliked his girlfriend and was vocal about her disdain any small chance she got. By now, Grant was desensitised to it, he didn't react.

But she wasn't done there.

"I can't believe you still think you're invincible. Haven't you learned a damn  _thing_?" With the last letter of the word, Bette pressed a finger to his sternum and kept it there deliberately. Swallowing a mouthful of nothing, he couldn't help but be aware of the beat of his heart against her palm when she laid it flat. It was an empty, hollow sound, thump-thump-thump, there to remind him it was working to its bare minimum. Damn useless thing.

"Message received,  _Mary_." Grant stepped away, the small of his back pressing against the bar's edge. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his index and thumb, willing for his head to make sense enough to reply.

"I'm going down to Maine with Joey and Rose for the weekend, to pack stuff up. I'll get some shut eye there."

She regarded him sceptically but gave a small nod nonetheless.

"You'd better. I can't see you in the ER again."

"Not somewhere I'd like to go either." He admitted.

"Then act like it."

* * *

 

Sitting on the curb, waiting for that idiot sandwich brother of his to pick them up, Joey typed a text, pressed send, and anxiously waited for the reply. The screen said the other was typing.

His writing went,

" _Finally going home this weekend. Stupid brother will be there though_."

Tongue darting across his lips, Joey glanced nervously to his surroundings. Rose was playing Pokemon GO, paying him no attention and there was no sign of Grant yet, and while he awaited the response, Joey subconsciously rubbed his hand over the long ragged scar around his neck like a collar. A result of the accident.

Every time he touched it, he suffered the memories of  the jagged metal almost decapitating him, the glass bursting into the car, Rose screaming, the sickening crunch of bone breaking when mom hit the dash-

_Ping!_

The text couldn't have come through sooner and immediately, it alleviated his mounting anxiety. The building, constricting tightness in his chest released some when he read what it said.

_"We'll find a way around him. Can't wait to see you, kitten xx."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In canon, a lot of us know that Grant died of heart failure, I figured something similar would be an interesting character trait to our big bad tattooed lad.


	3. Duality Among Us

In the car, Rose smiled when after over six hours on the road, they pulled up at the dark empty house they'd all in turn once called home. It was a quiet, tired smile born mostly of reflex but it was the first time she allowed herself the expression since the accident. She rested her head on the glass and gazed at the black desolate windows as if they were welcoming and warm.

Joey was asleep in the back, the seatbelt had left a red rub mark on his face and neck, where he was leaning on it. Quiet breaths moved in and out through his parted lips, every bit of his face was relaxed, calm, it had to be the first time Grant had seen him not scowling.

Rose was happy, Joey was peaceful, and Grant wished he could find any emotion remotely similar in himself. Pulling the hand brake at the end of the driveway, his jaw was tense, hand tight around the wheel. He didn't want to be here, let alone get out and go into the house. His chest constricted just by seeing this place, his throat seemed to tighten up and he wanted nothing more than to reverse as fast as the car could go.

But no. He shook the thoughts from his head and told himself to man the fuck up, that he wasn't a little kid anymore, and if Slade somehow showed up or mom rose from the dead, neither could overpower him easily.

Nothing could go wrong. They were just here for the weekend and then straight back home, to New York.

Gathering himself, Grant got out with a sigh and breathed in a lungful of fresh crisp Maine night air. If there was one up about his parents' house, it was the lack of pollution. Not a luxury to be enjoyed where he was from. Out here, it was fairly isolated, save for the odd neighbours dotted here and there, and the whole area was thick impenetrable pine forest. It was spooky after dark, like something from Hansel and Gretel. A lone owl cried mournfully into the inky sky somewhere in the distance. A chill slithered down Grant's spine. Despite his assurances, this place was and always would be, unsettling.

"Grant? Grant  _Wilson_?" A man's voice sounded to his left, surprised, unexpected but not threatening. Grant glanced over the hedge to the neighbour who'd come out, curious when headlights lit up the empty driveway. He probably knew Slade was locked up and Adeline dead, his intrigue caused by the car wasn't out of place. 

"Hello, Mr Isherwood." Grant gave a respectful nod of his head. He remembered Ish as the next door neighbour, polite, friendly, helpful whenever he could be. He lived here before the Wilson family did, seeing him around was basically a part of the scenery. Ish was in his mid-forties, a decent looking man with black hair obscured only by a few streaks of silver on his temples. His eyes were hazel green, warm and kind. Smile lines showed on his face even when he wasn't smiling, just part of what made him appear so approachable.  As a child, Grant had always felt secure in his aura. He was an undeniable father figure in the day.

"I ain't seen you in years, kid." Ish spoke with a light airy undertow of happiness, as he somehow always managed to do.

"What brings you back here?"

"Just packing up. Mom and dad aren't here to so I have to." Try as he might, Grant couldn't find the same cheer to his tone as Ish did, he reflected in his words how displeased he was to come to this place.

Ish's expression fell into a more serious, grave one.

"Listen, son.... I heard about what happened and I'm really sorry - about your parents. If... If you need anything-"

"I'm good, thanks." He abruptly stopped Ish in mid-sentence. He appreciated the man's hospitality and offer as a whole but Grant wasn't the sort to accept charity. No matter how many times the neighbour had helped in the past.

" _We're_  good." He gestured to the car with his siblings, both now asleep. Arching a brow, Ish's gaze moved to them briefly then back to Grant.

"... How are they? What happened... It's not for any child to see." Ish was as grim as the topic demanded. He was always aware of the happenings in the neighbourhood to an almost psychic extent, Grant wasn't at all surprised he knew Joey and Rose saw their mother die. And let's not leave out the permanent disabilities that psychotic bitch gave them when she deliberately crashed the car. Joey had his throat severed, he was rendered mute for life while Rose was blind in the eye she wore her hair over.

Grant wished he'd been there to enjoy witnessing mom's death for maiming his little brother and sister.

"Rose is doing as well as can be expected. She's staying strong. But Joey...." Grant didn't mean to trail off when he thought about his little brother but he couldn't help it. He was worried.

Ish regarded him sympathetically, the way a man who understood would. There was something paternal there, in the way he gazed at the youngster. 

"He needs time, Grant. He was close to his mother, this is a lot more than he knows how to deal with. You  _all_  need time to process this."

Grant didn't agree that he had to be added into the equation but he nodded. He didn't feel like arguing. Exhaling, shoulders slumping, he made his way back to the car.

"Mind helping me carry them in?"

"Sure." Ish came around the fence and  through the gate, joining Grant by the vehicle. As the younger and - he would imagine -  _stronger_  of them, Grant made to collect Joey but the neighbour beat him to it. 

"I'm not a frail old man yet, Grant." Ish winked at him while he opened the door and eased Joey into his arms, carefully adjusting the kid bridal style. Giving a sleepy noise and tiny stir, Grant's brother pushed deeper against the neighbour, not disturbed in the slightest. Huh. Last time Grant tried to come within hand's reach of Joey, he was surprised by how lethal the mite's throat punch was.  He was lucky he didn't have a fracture trachea to deal with.

Unlike Joey, Rose did come around when Grant gathered her out the car, giving a couple heavy blinks up at him but she nestled into his chest with a groggy yawn and one hand bunching around the fabric of his shirt.  Something in Grant's useless defective heart blossomed with a comfortable warmth. He bit the inside of his cheek so his smile wouldn't show, he should not be smiling when stepping into the house where his parents smacked him into every wall and item of furniture. 

This place was like a tomb to him.

With Ish's help, he put his brother and sister to bed and bid the neighbour good night. He took his pills and dropped down onto the couch, scrolling through missed text messages. He didn't really want to go see if Adeline kept his old room the way it was left or if she boarded it up to forget he ever existed.

Wasn't an unlikely outcome, actually. Not that he fully blamed her, he imagined it was a shock when he decided to ditch her and Slade for good. He was one year younger than Joey the day he decided fuck family, he was better off alone. In hindsight, fourteen was not a good age to strike out on his own. He absently wondered if that was a life choice that made it inevitable for him to end up in this moment, nineteen with two  _other_  teenagers depending on him to keep his shit together.  

Though, this was still the preferable outcome to dad taking the kids. Much more preferable. Hopefully once everything was packed up, he could put this place behind him for good.

* * *

 

It was  _amazing_  for Joey to wake up in his own bedroom for  a change, not that closet Grant stuffed him and Rose into. He didn't want to get out of bed for anything, he stayed under his covers for an hour before he even considered rising and then when he did, it was only because he was dying for breakfast. 

When Joey stood and pushed the covers off, padded in silence across the floor to the door, he gave his room a lingering glance, searching for one item in particular. He didn't get a chance to look for it last night before he was carted off to sleep but he was relieved to see it there, leaning against the wall in the same corner he left it. Six strings, polished mahogany wood, tall slender neck, gleaming brass chords, his acoustic had never looked more of a temptress and he couldn't wait to have her in his lap again. No question, Joey was going to kill his brother if he made him leave the guitar here. 

He wandered quietly into the familiar hall, not two meters down it when he bumped into Rose, just standing there... waiting? She was clad in her Black Parade tunic, hitting mid-thigh and wearing nothing else. Her snowy hair had exploded into a blizzard of tangles and spikes stabbing at the air in odd angles. The single visible eye was fixed on him through the mess.

" _What_?" Joey mouthed snappily. His little sister stared at him as if she was expecting something. Shifting from leaning on one hip to the other, Rose's hands landed on her waist with a disapproving frown.

"You'd better stop being such a colossal bitch to our brother. This is as hard for him as it is for us, you're just making it that much tougher for everyone."

Joey rolled his eyes, pulling his phone up from his pocket to write his reply on google docs, pretty much thrusting the screen into her face.

_'He dragged us away from home to live with him in NY, which none of us want. He's making everything worse.'_

 Rose pursed her lips as she read it, gaze rolling deliberately slowly back to him. It was a calm-before-the-storm expression.

" _Really_ , Joseph? I'd think you're half blind after the accident!" She snapped with more than a little bite, aggressively taking a sudden step closer that made him reflexively take one back. Rose had been in martial arts classes since seven, he'd seen her beat up twelfth grade boys, any abrupt movements from her had Joey braced for the worst.

"He is  _trying_ , Joey! Grant's already got a helluva lot of problems, way before he had to deal with us, problems you're too fucking  _stupid_  to realise exist! He's the only reason we aren't bunking with some druggie strangers who only took us in for the money. Mom and dad left us-"

" _Grant left us first_!" Joey belligerently signed, not caring if Rose didn't catch a word. He was just as testy as her, perhaps more so.

" _He decided he didn't wanna be part of our family when he ran off and broke mom's heart_." To this day, Joey found it difficult to forget his mother sobbing for days when that waste-of-oxygen brother of his decided selfishly leaving was the answer to problems he didn't have.

"Mom  _isn't_  a saint, Joey.  Stop acting like she is. She tried to  _kill_  us in that car crash." 

Glaring at her Joey's fists clenched at his sides, opening and closing. Mom was sick, that's something Rose, Grant, or even dad never realised. You didn't blame a person with the flu for coughing, did you? These people were just... just fucking blind idiots.

Rose sighed, not in defeat but the way in which she didn't want to keep arguing. At least, not right now. Eyeing him from the corner of her 10/20 vision, his sister brushed past, her shoulder hitting his and before she went downstairs, she added this very dramatic sentence,

"Our parents aren't coming back, Joey. They're not, that's just the truth. But let's try to keep what remains of our family intact, shall we?"

Again, Joey rolled his eyes, scoffing in irritation, clicking his tongue but he followed her down nonetheless. The house was warm for the first time in weeks, the hearth was lit and the lights were on. It was only eight AM but the living room floor was covered with open, partially packed boxes leading into the kitchen in a trail. 

Grant was in there, cooking pancakes for breakfast while the early Autumn morning gloom was barely lifting. So he'd packed half of the house  _and_  made food already? How fucking helpful of him. Joey was irritated by the fact that he had no idea why his brother was going the extra mile for them with these things he clearly didn't want to do.

"Morning," Grant mumbled while he flipped a pancake, not looking to them but he could see them from the reflection of the window. He sounded tired, very tired, you had to wonder if he'd slept at all last night. How damn sad.

" _Pancakes_?" Rose's eye widened when she came closer until she stood at Grant's side, hands on the counter top, peering at the pan on the stove. She was smiling, not a fake smile but a genuine bright one for once.

"I haven't had them in ages!" Rose went on and that time, Grant returned the smile. God, Joey wanted him to get burned with his cooking. Whatever Grant's angle of playing nice was, he wasn't falling for it.

"I remembered you liked 'em, Rose. I'm tryna replicate Adeline's recipe but I might be screwing the whole thing up."

For some dumb reason, Rose wrapped her arms around Grant's midriff and hugged him tight, burying her face in his shirt.

"They look better than mom's." As if!

Teeth grit, Joey couldn't take staring at this anymore. He was hungry but Rose cuddling up to the man who was too good to consider himself a Wilson made him lose his appetite. He tasted bile and went outside too quietly for his brother or sister to hear and through the mist and damp dewy grass, he headed over to the neighbour's house. The door wasn't locked, he went in without a challenge, into the dark interior. The whole place was quiet, absent of so much as a stir of life, as still as a grave.

Tentatively, Joey glanced around, shutting the door behind and nervously venturing in. Why was it so desolate?

He was a quarter of the way through the living room when all of a sudden, a freight train of a force careered into him. He was knocked back, almost of his feet. A thud vibrated through his chest as his back hit the wall, the bigger man pinned his wrists, pushed his weight onto Joey and.... kissed him, long and deep. Moaning blissfully, heart hammering, the kid pressed back, eyes fluttering shut. Ish's tongue snaked past his teeth and he welcomed the intrusion with open arms.... And jaws. A wandering hand rapidly searched his body, pushing the hem of his shirt up, skimming over the curve of his hip. The touch was electric, goosebumps prickling beneath.

His leg was gripped around the thigh and his boyfriend pulled it onto his waist, Joey locked it there eagerly, pushing back against Ish's mouth on his, hot and wanting. He gave a muffled yelp when the far older man thrust up against him but lightly laughed it off.

He signed 'stoppit' and 'c'mon, Davey', hand flat on Ish's chest to push him back enough to break their shared connection with a wet pop. Persistent, Ish dropped a kiss onto the nape of his neck, onto that spot he knew made Joey squeal, and he panted breathlessly in response.

His sister and idiot brother were next door, he didn't have a lot of time before his absence would drag on and be noticed. As much as he wanted to let this go on, Joey didn't have the time. If,  _heaven forbid,_  Grant walked in on them, he would tear Ish's head off. The dumb idiot wouldn't understand. How could he? He was with that bitch  _Carol_.

Whisper soft, Ish brushed his lips over the scar forming a rise on Joey's throat and kissed it like it was the most beautiful thing there was to behold. Gently, he cupped Joey's face with one last light peck onto his lips before he pulled back just enough to gaze into his eyes, long and lovingly. 

"I've missed you, kitten." Ish said, tenderly brushing a lock of blond hair behind Joey's ear. Joey only reached his shoulder, he needed to tilt his head back to meet the older man's line of sight, and he was smiling like sunshine. Smiling all the way. He'd missed Ish too, he wanted to say it but the moment he forgot he couldn't and tried, the words came out in a choked dry noise. Self-conscious fingers wrapped around his neck, he looked down, unhappy with the reminder of his ailment. And that he was never getting better.

Reading his mind, Ish tipped his chin up, looking so sad and sympathetic at once.

" _You know this gets easier, don't you_?"  Joey expected to hear him say that but instead, he signed it. Joey gaped. Ish didn't know sign language to that level of fluency the last time they saw each other. Sure, he knew a few words but not like this. Ish was slightly unsure with the motions but the fact that he'd been practising showed, it warmed Joey's heart. It was more than his idiot family was willing to try.

 _"I hope so_." The kid responded with a trio of gestures.

" _I just don't like New York. Or my brother. Or.... Being so far from you_."

"It's not forever, Joey. Just as long as I can get the paperwork done." Ish calmly assured him, taking Joey's hand and with his thumb, caressing his palm in comforting slow strokes.

" _Grant won't be happy. He will fight you_." Joey was sure he could rely on his older brother for that. He had an ownership complex, he didn't want either sibling living with him but he still put himself through the effort. Why? Because he was a fucking tyrant.

"I can handle your brother. He's not unreasonable. This is for the best, he'll see that."

_"What if he doesn't?"_

Ish's bottom lip grew stiff, his eyes darkened ever so slightly, so that anyone looking from two feet of distance wouldn't have been able to tell there was every a change.

"He will." Done with the topic, Ish moved his fingers exploratively along Joey's arm from his hand, inching the wide Ed Sheeran wrist band up. The kid tensed when it moved, wanting to step back, fingers curling into a fist when the man revealed the fresh red lines over old thin scars.  Ish's expression turned grave, Joey couldn't look at him, not even as he carefully traced the cuts, frowning deeply. In his head, he counted them. There were eight new ones.

"You're supposed to call me." Ish said as he looked up again. Joey wouldn't meet the weight of his gaze. Shame, guilt, annoyance at himself for doing this, it made a meal of him. He felt stupid. He  _knew_  he was stupid for thinking a razor blade would fix things. It just always seemed like the solution at the time.

"Joey, darling, you  _promised_  you'd call me and we'd talk when you get these...  _urges_." Ish lifted his hand to cup Joey's face,  so many silent words of sadness and disappointment towards him left unspoken. Joey gnawed at his lip, gaze flitting to the fingers encircling him, hiding the marks. He didn't know why he never called, it might be him not wanting to burden Ish with his problems. Even when he couldn't be more aware that Isherwood didn't think that way.

" _I_...." Joey wasn't sure what he was going to say, or if there was anything to,  but he was for once thankful to hear his brother's voice, coming from outside.

"Seph! Get back in here!"

Joey rolled his pastel green eyes at the tone of Grant's voice. He was irritated. Fucking idiot.

Quiet, Ish's gaze was fixed in the direction of the sound.

"Go." He said and with a quick nod, Joey went by him, hurrying out the back door so Grant didn't see him coming from the neighbour's house. He'd have a field day with that.

Grant was waiting by the front steps, hands on his hips in such a way that made it more obvious that his tank top left his arms fully visible. For all the time Joey had been refamiliarised with his brother, Grant hadn't worn sleeves. It's like he couldn't rest until he made certain the whole world knew he had muscly tattooed arms.

He thought he was so fucking  _hot_.

"Where've you been, cherub?" Grant's gaze followed Joey returning grumpily, all the way up to the steps he stood on and he didn't really seem to want that reply he asked for.

"Come eat and then we'll go through your room for things you wanna keep, alright?" 

Taking his phone from his pocket, Joey typed 'drop dead' into the search engine without pressing enter and shoved it into Grant's face as he stormed inside.

Stupid idiot. Joey couldn't wait to be done with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, Joey canonically cuts, which, I don't know why it's never talked about but here I am to shed light on that touchy topic. Ish is hella creepy tho, right?


	4. Missing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today we shall be dealing with something truly taboo among Wilsons; EMOTIONS!!!

Have some Wilson childs. I have three things to say about this image of my own making. 1, Rose's face is a silent scream for help. 2, I have no idea what the hell Grant is wearing. 3, I'm not sure why Joey has a death grey pallor but I'm not fixing it.

* * *

 

"Toss, toss, toss, toss,  _toss_...." From the open kitchen draw, Grant pulled out a wooden spatula, turned it in his hand for a brief look over then dropped it into the black garbage bag at his feet. No need to keep that, he was quite sure he still had its imprint somewhere on his body to remember it by.  _Fondly_.

"You can't throw everything away, brother," Rose made certain to remind him while sorting through a box of miscellaneous items from on top of the fridge. It was in front of her at the table, she was getting quite flustered with how much junk mom had stowed away and yet she found the time to supervise her big brother.

"A lot of it's useless garbage." Grant shrugged, chucking another handful of rubbish he wouldn't even identify into the bag. Dad was home extremely rarely, always off doing god knows what, but Adeline, from what Grant remembered, was a neat freak. Looks like she lost her marbles and went a little stir crazy in her last months, this place was covered in clutter and dust, items with no use and some with no name, a regular hoarder's treasure trove.

Joey was supposed to be helping with packing but by the soft acoustic melody coming from the second floor, he was doing no such thing.

"Why'd you get that one?" Rose asked while she gestured to the tattoo on his arm. All morning, she'd been holding a trivia with his ink as the centrepiece, and this time, the broken-winged angel sobbing into her knees caught his sister's attention. She was grey, flush of all colour, depressing as hell and just the right size to cover the unfortunate scar being shoved into a glass display cabinet could cause.

Thoughtful, Grant raised his arm halfway to give himself an upside-down view of the angel.

"Saw it in a magazine somewhere, I thought it was cool an' dramatic. There's nothing deeper to it, I'm afraid."

"Well," Rose tilted her head to examine it further, frowning.

"It's certainly dramatic but.... also very sad. Why is she crying?"

"Maybe her mother threw her into a china cabinet?" He nonchalantly suggested, focusing his eyes on tying the bag up when it reached the limit of what it could hold. He felt Rose's gaze on him intensify with her confusion and it might have been out of place, but he had to ask,

"Ro, did mom and dad ever.... hurt you or Joey?"

His little sister scrunched her nose up, eyebrows knitting close together in thought.

"No. I mean, they could get mean and stuff, yell a lot, but they never like...  _hit_  us." .... Oh. So the berating and insults, beatings and punishments, that was all.... subjective? Well, Adeline did always tell him that he was the biggest mistake of her life and a breathing reminder of past wrongdoings, he couldn't say he was surprised if she didn't feel the same violent inclinations towards her two precious blond cherubs.

"I think mom liked Joey best, though." Rose continued on, her task forgotten and hands resting idly in front of her on the table top.

"She was always tellin' him she loved him and giving him hugs and kisses. Mom stuff, y'know?" Well, Grant had heard of those things but had no personal experience to go off of, he'd have to take Rose's word for it, even if it was difficult to imagine Adeline was capable of any of those things.

Truthfully, Grant knew he should be happy his brother and sister had been spared the brunt of their mother's aggression, especially after her punching bag left, but she certainly made up for it with trying to kill them. They still didn't know what drove her to that decision.

"She... she even said she loved him right before she... drove into th - the railing." Quickly batting her eyes, Rose sniffed with the recollections still so fresh, swallowing a mouthful of air and glancing away in shame. Wilsons don't cry, dad's earliest lesson.

He didn't need to be told, Grant discarded the bag and forgot what he was doing to cross the small space between him and his little sister to go to her. Rose turned away and wouldn't look at him, struggling to keep her lower lip from quivering.

"Hey, Rose, don't cry. Please."

Closing her in his arms, Grant rested his chin on her soft white hair when she leaned into him, hiding her face in his chest and it didn't take a minute for wet spots to be growing through the cotton of his shirt. She bunched up the fabric in her fists, her body moving with small trembles from the tears. Her sniffles quickly became sobs and she clung to him tighter. Fingernails curled into Grant's skin. 

"Wh - why did she want t - to kill us?" Rose cried, voice half muffled by how hard she was pressing on her brother. He gnawed on his bottom lip, shifting his grip slightly. It was so rarely she showed genuine raw emotion that he didn't quite know how to respond.

"I don't know, Rose, I really don't. Mom was sick." He wasn't entirely sure that was the case but a part of him had to believe no rationally thinking mother would do what she did. No matter he knew she'd always had this violence in her.

"She s - said that dad was coming and - and-"

" _Dad_?" Grant frowned, pulling back a little to look at her. She didn't let go of him. In fact, his movement may have made her hold on tighter when she nodded rapidly. What Rose said didn't make any sense, Slade was already locked up when the accident happened. Extreme though he was, there was no way the old blighter was getting out of maximum security.

Grant wanted to ask her more, he really did, but he knew where his priorities were and satisfying his own curiosity was nowhere near consoling his baby sister. She continued crying with no apparent break to come.

"Wh - what if dad had something t - to do with it?"

"C'mon, sis, you're smart. I know you know he couldn't have." He soothed as in a single effort and not a lot of it, he plucked her out of the seat and into his powerful arms, her cheek laying over the angel she'd been fascinated by earlier.

He didn't know what he was doing but Grant kissed the top of her head, rocking her ever so slightly.

"And if he somehow did, he's not going to get through me to you. I  _promise_."

Almost aggressively, Rose wrapped her arms around his neck like a choke hold, the side of her sticky damp face pressing to his, covering them both in her tears. His hand was flat on her back, he could feel her stuttery breaths as they rattled in her chest.

"Please never forget to take your pills. I - I don't want you to die."

"What? Rose, I'm not dying."

"Do you  _promise_?"

Grant exhaled quietly, regretting they even had to have this conversation. Of all things, his little sister should not be worrying about whether or not he was going to continue living for that long. It was out of his control, of course, but he could hardly say that, no matter Rose was well aware.

"I promise."

It might not have happened, but he was sure Rose relaxed a bit with his assurance, although she continued to hold onto him as if her life depended on it. Soon, her crying evened out, Grant wasn't sure he said anything comforting enough for it to and reached the conclusion that Rose simply consoled herself. Somehow.

Strong though he could be considered, Grant's muscles were beginning to feel a dull burn from holding up seventy pounds of teenage girl. He carefully put Rose back on her feet but she didn't let go, if anything, she hugged him tighter and he realised he might be there for a while to come.

Rose was just in line to press her ear to his chest and make out the thumping of his heart, he could tell that's what she was listening to as she stared off into the distance, tear streaks slowly drying. The odd sniffle still escaped her lips here and there. As fast as her emotional whirlwind had come, it was clearing up.

Grant hesitantly lowered his hand onto her hair and began running it through the silken strands. Up and down, until the motion became rhythmic.

"Rose... I never ran away from you and Seph, don't think I'm going to." It might not have been on her mind but Grant felt he needed to make that clear. It was important to him that even a single of his baby siblings knew that and since Joey wasn't one for letting him talk, Rose was his sole chance to get it across.

Wordless, Rose nodded.

While they stood there with Grant waiting for his little sister to let go in her own time, his eyes wandered idly to places he normally wouldn't have paid that much attention to, and from this position by the window, he was surprised when a certain blond teenage monster was at the far end of the garden, headed somewhere with a purposeful step. Where the hell was Joey going? Grant hadn't noticed the guitar playing had stopped and the kid had sneaked outside. 

Joey disappeared somewhere out of Grant's field of vision and as much as he did want to know where his baby brother was going, he decided Rose held priority at that moment.

Joey was probably going to go punch a tree, anyway. Nothing Grant should concern himself with.

* * *

 

"Got the papers sent out today. They usually take a couple of weeks to process but it won't be longer than that." Ish explained as he readjusted his shirt, smoothing down the wrinkles and picking the odd blond hair off its fabric. He sat on one side of the bed with his back to Joey, the kid was trying to listen to him but focused more on staring at himself in the full-length mirror mounted on the wall. His legs were thrown over the bed, fingers intertwined before him and his hair a tangled mess. There were circular bruises on his neck and shoulder, bruises that would be a dead give away as to why his lower back ached so. Thanks to his scar, Joey made it a point to wear collared shirts, no one would ever see the hickeys beneath it.

Joey was most interested in staring into his own eyes. They were so big and green, blackening beneath by the day. He wondered why he looked so tired lately.

"Kitten, are you hearing me?" Ish had turned and come across the bed to Joey's side, hand now on his shoulder to give him a light shake that snapped him out of the trance. Taking a quick half-startled breath, Joey blinked fast a couple of times and nodded with vigour to make up for spacing out like that.

" _What if you don't get custody_?" Joey signed fast, hoping they could avoid discussing why his head ran a prolonged blank like that. There was nothing to talk about in that department.

"That's not even a possibility." Ish smiled softly with the assurance, he couldn't be any more certain of himself. His hand moved off Joey's shoulder to lay weightlessly over his thigh. Joey watched it a spell before he met the man's gaze again.

"No judge in their right mind will give custody to a teenager with a criminal record instead of me. I have a stable income, stable living situation, and no priors. With me, you won't have to leave your school or state and I have a lengthy and good history with your family. Ideally, I'm the perfect candidate."

" _What about Rose_?" For a bit, Joey had been asking himself what his sister's fate would be with all this. He didn't exactly want her to move in with him and his boyfriend, it would just mean more secreting their relationship around and spending their time behind closed curtains and doors. He wasn't happy with the hush-hush nature of this, even when he understood why it was important. Ish could really get into some hot water over what they did, the stupid law saw Joey as a defenceless kid who was being abused. No one would accept that this was entirely consensual. Ish would never do anything to hurt him and if there was something he didn't want, it wouldn't even be discussed.

"I suspect Rose will want to stay with Grant. She has some say in it, after all."

Joey mouthed a low 'oh' to himself, unsure of how he should react to that information. He allowed his vision to fall back onto his hands and the green sweatband around his wrist. He'd need a new one soon, a wider one, this barely fit over the cuts anymore. Joey remembered that a month ago before everything came crashing down, he'd only needed one of those inch thick silicone wrist bands.  

Ish was saying something that went a little disconnected from Joey, his eyes drifted to the pale  _untouched_  underside of his left wrist. There was a lot of unused space there. Many possibilities. Idly, he found himself tracing the point of his fingernail over a big blue blood vein, visible just beneath the skin. 

" _What makes you think Grant will let you take me_?" Cutting off whatever Ish was saying, Joey abruptly moved his hands to ask, giving the man a side-eyed look. He'd overheard Miss Cantrell talking with Grant, talking vaguely about brother's criminal record. Truthfully, Joey didn't know what Grant had done or what he was capable of. It was... scary. Some of his tattoos looked like they might belong to a gang and there were many prolific ones to choose from in New York.

"He won't have a choice, kitten," Ish explained, brushing Joey's forelocks back and pressing a tender kiss to his brow. It felt very natural for Joey to lean into him the way he did and fit so perfectly beneath his chin, like a jigsaw piece returning home. He gave a small weary exhale. Ish's arm came around him loosely and the kid closed his eyes for a beat, so tired of everything spinning out of control. Once custody was rightfully taken away from his idiot brother, things could finally start to scab over.

After all of it, he didn't need or want  _family_.

"And if he kicks up trouble, it's more fuel to the fire of why he can't be trusted to take care of his underage siblings. Grant can be... impulsive. Reckless." He went on, stroking  comforting lines into Joey's back while Joey himself continued staring at his reflection in that mirror. He couldn't get over how small he looked beside the older man, small but.... safe. Protected.  _Wanted_.

"If  _somehow_  that doesn't work, there are other things that can be brought to light that no court can ignore." 

" _Like what_?" Joey signed. Ish had already named off a lot of convincing arguments that made him feel comfortingly certain that Grant would have no chance of keeping custody. 

"Well, your brother has no example to lead by. The judge will take into consideration the fact that Grant was brutalised by your parents and therefore has no idea what a healthy environment for a child should be. It's likely he might adopt his progenitors' methods of discipline and think they're correct."  

Joey didn't hear the other half of that sentence, his brain tuned into the 'parents' bit and nothing else.  Knitting his brows, he sat back so he could look Ish in the eyes with all of his confusion on display.

" _What are you talking about? Mom and dad have never hurt us_."

Confused, Ish looked at him and it took a moment to realise Joey had no idea about that tiny detail.... how was that even possible? Yes, Adeline and Slade never laid hands on him or Rose but they weren't exactly subtle about putting those hands on their brother. It was never discreet.

Back then, Ish spent most nights listening to the neighbours having screaming matches back and forth about who was right and who was wrong.  That somehow always escalated to beating their eldest. It had been something to wonder about why that treatment was solely reserved for Grant. There was never a break in the habit. 

Ish recalled one very cold and rainy Autumn night, where Slade had taken the two youngest kids and gone off somewhere, as he tended to do from time to time, and left Grant with Adeline. The details escaped Ish but whatever happened, it compelled the woman to shove her son into the old display cabinet with brittle glass doors and delicate china. The frame couldn't take the impact, the whole thing keeled over and fell onto Grant. It was debatable whether the blow hurt more or the fragments of glass that cut into him. 

The smash had been enough to convince Ish to finally cave and go over to passively inquire about Adeline's current wellness. Sometimes, he stepped in. It was none of his business, really, and Slade never took lightly to his appearance at the door but the man wasn't home then. In that department, it was safe.

That time, he didn't get to the paved walkway leading up to the house before he was met halfway by a mess of a fourteen-year-old. He was underdressed for the weather with his arms around his bloody and bruised body, shaking but not from the cold. Grant was sobbing, cursing, eyes so wide from shock that they shouldn't have fit into his skull. Unevenly, he repeated that he couldn't go back there and needed to get away from her. 

That was the night he didn't come back, gone before his siblings or father returned home. If Joey and Rose ever felt abandonment, it made sense.

Ish shouldn't have done anything other than calling the police, but somehow he found himself giving the kid a lift to the city and handing him enough cash to get to wherever he wanted to go. Ish honestly didn't think Grant planned on staying away long, it wasn't exactly uncommon for him to vow he would never return home and be back before morning. He meant it then.

But that wasn't a story to tell Joey. It was too raw, too graphic, it would twist and darken his perception of his parents when he didn't need to think less of them. But most importantly, that tale was far too  _sympathetic_. Joey couldn't have his judgement of his brother clouded by a handful of sob stories.

"If I remember correctly," Ish began when he finally dragged himself out of the memory.

"Grant was clopped around the head once or twice and decided to get back at your parents by running off." 

Joey's expression darkened. His body stiffened. He didn't speak with his hands but he mouthed what was on his mind.

" _He hurt mom for that?_....  _I fucking hate him_."

"I know, kitten." Ish leaned over to pull the fifteen-year-old into a kiss, tongue pushing into his mouth and running along his teeth before pulling out to lightly nibble on Joey's perfect pout.

"But you won't have to worry about him much longer."

* * *

 

It was their last night there and Grant gathered enough gall to venture up to the room at the end of the hall, on the second floor. Rose was asleep in her bed like a responsible girl and Joey had been in a particularly sour mood when he returned from his walkabout, so no point in discussing him. Neither was currently a good enough distraction to keep his want-to-know at bay, he just had to see what his bitch mother had done with his room. For no other reason than his own plain curiosity. 

Grant tried not to but he cringed when walking down the hallway, muffling his footsteps as best as he could. Not recounting all the times he was dragged down here was tough. Not reliving them was tougher. If this place wasn't up for auction he'd fucking burn it until there wasn't a single support beam standing.

They say Slade was bad but truthfully, Adeline was the truly cruel one of them. With him, it was mostly derogatory comments and disregard while mom couldn't seem to keep her fists and other objects off Grant. He couldn't lie, when Rose and Joey weren't looking, the idea of her death made his lips turn in a bitter smirk of pure contentedness. He refused to be blamed for that. Less than what Adeline had done to him would make her death warranted. 

She'd always told Grant she hated him for looking like his father, which he might understand if it was true. In his opinion, he bore little to no resemblance to Slade but  _hey_ , whatever she needed to tell herself to justify hurting her son. It was hard to accomplish but Adeline successfully abandoned her child while living in the same house. He couldn't stay resentful in the face of something that impressive.

The door to his room was locked, no surprise there, but it wasn't an obstacle, he'd learned to pick locks way before he was in his early teens.  _Voila_ , two quick clicks with a bobby pin he borrowed from Rose and the hinges turned back, granting access into this fucking crypt for the first time in what had to be ages. The floor was thick with a blanket of dust, it had to be  _months_  since anyone was last in here.

His room could be considered only one thing and that was a fucking _disaster_. Old yellowing posters lined the walls they were barely fixed to, their edges curling in and ripped. Untidy stacks of papers laid piled onto the floor, desk, and windowsill framed by mouldy, moth-bitten curtains.  The place was darkened by the dusty broken cobwebs hanging from the corners of the ceiling, the carpet beneath so thick with mud that it was impossible to see its original colours. Moonlight filtered into the empty space from the large window facing the driveway below, Grant couldn't remember all the times he'd stood there with a growing pit of dread in his stomach when his parents returned from work.

In his head, Grant raised a glass to the idea of Slade getting killed by a riot behind bars. The little demons weighing on his shoulders would be truly happy then. Were it not for the responsibility of his siblings, Grant might very well get himself arrested just to put a knife in the bastard himself. He'd take twenty-to-life for that. Easily.

But other than dreaming of his dear old dad's demise, Grant quickly realised this was not the state his room was in when he last saw it. Not even close. A hurricane swept through here, by the looks of it.

Frowning, he approached the stacks of papers that certainly weren't his and didn't know what to think when he realised the first one on the pile was a missing poster... of him. There was his face, name, age as it was then, a phone number and the address to this place. Before he got out of Maine, he'd seen those papers around and wondered what the hell kind of story did Adeline spin to make the officials believe he was fucking  _kidnapped_  and not a runaway. The state filling with her stupid posters was a convincing argument to leave it entirely.  

Lip curling back, Grant aggressively lashed out and kicked the stack over, hundreds of matching posters spilling over the floor.  They were all the same, all of them in every pile this room had over ten of.  _Jesus_ , obsessed much? 

It wasn't until one poster slid into the square of moonlight beneath the window that he saw there was writing on it that wasn't mass printed. From this distance, it looked like scribbles slanting across the rest of the text. He was pissed off, sure, but that didn't stop the spark of intrigue from coming alive. Just what had been added to those bullshit posters? 

Kneeling, Grant picked it up and scanned it over. It was hastily scrawled in ink that wasn't given the proper chance to dry before it was smudged, but he could tell what it said in wild letters, full of lowercase and capital springing up where they didn't belong.  

**_'thEy tOoK mY BAbY.'_ **

That's what it read. 'They took my baby' spelt frantically and by the looks of a mad woman. It wasn't there just once or even thrice, the sentence pelted the page over and over and over, stuffed into any half inch of space there was. What? 

Quickly, Grant checked the other posters and there wasn't a single that had been left untouched by those four words.  _What_? Did... did Adeline really think someone _stole_ him away from her? That it wasn't absolutely his choice to leave? It couldn't have been more obvious that other than hers, there was no foul play involved. Though knowing his mother, she convinced herself her son didn't run from her and was, in fact,  _taken_ , all as the means of deflecting the blame.

Goddamn, he might have told Rose the fucking truth. Did mom actually go mental? That is, madder than she'd always been? 

"Oh my fucking  _god."_ Grant swept his hands over his face and through his hair, holding clumps of it and pulling until it burned. It drained the life out of him to try to understand what his mother was thinking in any given situation, this especially. The mental gymnastics required were off this earth. He couldn't do it. He just fucking couldn't.

Hastily, he gathered the papers into an untidy pile on the floor and got the hell out of his old room, kicking the door shut louder than he intended to.  The bang of wood on the frame reverberated through the hallway and echoed the nearer it got to the end.

Not for the first time,  Grant wanted to run from there and run far. Except he couldn't, not until tomorrow.

He didn't have to stay in the house, though, Grant slept in the car and the next morning, he had nice big pyre on the lawn consume the posters.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well shit. Turns out when you listen to "Runaway Train" for literally seven hours on repeat while reflecting on your life, you write some depressing stuff. Haha, I'm going back to bed XD


	5. Someday, Somehow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I never intend for chapters to get this long.

Sigh...  _Sigh_. It was the slowest afternoon Rose Wilson had ever suffered through. With Grant at work and Joey occupied somewhere doing something suspiciously quiet, it was just her and her books alone at the kitchen table. New York was in a sour mood, thick grey mantles hung in foreboding thick blankets above the city's head, promising an onslaught of rain. Rose couldn't even go out to Central Park to read. With the impending storm, she had to stay in this depressing gloomy apartment.

She was starting to think she needed a hobby, just school and sitting at home wasn't really cutting it.

She was bored to death.

Chin resting on her hand, she stared dully at the pages of the history book, open at a chapter with an in-length discussion about matriarchy in Europe. Normally, it was a gripping topic but today....

"Can't you do that somewhere else?"

Rose looked up to see Carol looming over her and casting the library's worth of books scattered across the table an unenthusiastic look.  _Great_. Rose did not love her brother's girlfriend.

"Grant says I can read here." She returned coldly, staring at Carol without waver to her icy blue gaze. The weekend in Maine, away from this bitch, that had been bliss. Just Rose and her brothers, trying to be a family and then there was Carol, lodging herself between to make it all harder.

"Doesn't look like Grant is here, does it, Posie?" Carol adopted a too sweet tone as she circled the table, running her hand along its surface until she was pulling out the seat beside the girl. 

"My name is  _Rose_." Her teeth set with a quiet click, hands curling tighter around the covers of her book. Dammit, this whore better not try her. Not today.

"Rosie Posie then." Her richly glossed lips spread with a practised camera smile that didn't make the thirteen-year-old like her any better. Carol was sitting with her hands folded over her legs, her back incredibly straight but it wasn't for the sake of good posture, it just made her look thinner. Literally no one cared and this bitch continued with the fucking poses like she was a model and not just a cheap egirl leaking her own nudes for an extra bit of attention.

"I heard things went well in Maine." Carol leaned her elbow on the table, chin in her hand and the gaze in which she regarded Rose was comparable to a serpent's. The girl kept waiting for her forked tongue to flit through her silicone stuffed lips.

"You can ask my brother about Maine. I have studying to do." Curtly, she lifted her book and hoped Carol took the obvious hint to leave her alone to mind her own business.

"Yeah but isn't he like, retarded or something? Think he'll  even understand the question?"

" _What_?" Rose stared at her, perplexed as she was peeved, and this useless woman looked as nonchalant as could be.

"Little bugger doesn't talk. I assume it's a  _mental_  problem?" Carol's smile widened slightly and it was accompanying a half-mocking, half-jeering expression. Her eyes glinted.

Rose's hands turned to fists around the book. Oh hell  _no_. Joey was not the brother she'd implied and Carol knew that and even if she didn't.... This whore had seen the scar,  _surely_. She knew where it came from and what it caused.

"He's  _mute_. Not mentally handicapped." She growled like a wolf ready to pounce on its prey and tear its throat out. Rose was tempted. Oh, she was  _tempted_.

"Same thing, isn't it?"

" _No_! Joey's throat was fucking cut when our  _mother_  tried to kill us!"

"Yes, I'm sure that sob story will get the two of you a lot of pity in the future."

Rose bared her teeth and elicited a small growl. Her face had turned a darker shade than an ace of spades. So help her, she was going to murder Grant's girlfriend and not feel bad about it.

"You better watch your slut mouth and how you talk about my brother."

"The way I see it," Carol pursed her lips. "I can talk about you and that mute however I want for as long as Grant can stand you being here."

"Not if I tell him what you just said about Joey."

"You really wanna do that, Posie? Baby's already got a lot of stress, do you think he needs his bratty siblings starting trouble with his girlfriend?"

"You're the one who-"

"Those pills can only do so much. Wouldn't want him having another heart failure, would we? Anything more could tip the scale."

Wait....  _Another_?

"What... What do you mean?" Rose frowned, a sudden strange sense of anxiety tightening in the pit of her stomach. 

"Oh, you don't know?" Carol arched her brows, plucked too thin to look natural. She hadn't quit smiling when she leaned forward, so close that Rose could smell the overpriced perfume wafting off her and it made her scrunch up her features.

"Almost a year ago, he was working when - outta nowhere - his heart decided not to. Paramedics say another thirty seconds and he'd have been dead. Made for a really good Instagram story and, _of_ _course_ , I'm glad my baby's alive. He stopped drinking since then, though, which makes him a little boring but eh, whatever he's gotta do." She shrugged and Rose gaped at her, for once at a loss for what to say. How... how did this bitch just say what she did? Didn't she hear what came out of her mouth?

"But my point is, the doctors told him to reduce stress, do you think you bitching about me is going to do that? No, sweetheart," Carol swayed her head from side to side like a charmed snake when she shook it.

"Don't do that, unless you want to kill your brother, and then if that happens, you and the dumb mute are off to a foster home where you'll be lucky not to be molested both at once." Seeing she'd left the girl speechless, the waste-of-space egirl lifted her ass off the seat and ruffled Rose's silvery white locks with feigned fondness.

"Good talk, Posie." She left with her hips swaying and daintily stepped, her breath holding the light airiness of a pleased-with-herself giggle.

Rose stared after her, a seether beneath the skin. Jaw grit, she cracked her knuckles. That bitch should  _not_  have just trash talked her brothers.

* * *

 

"I know what your problem is," Bette announced abruptly in the middle of their shift, drying the inside of a pint glass while Grant pushed another shot across the bar, polishing it with a coarse rag in his spare hand. He smiled at the customer for the sake of professional courtesy when they thanked him.

"Enlighten me." He rolled his eyes when he cast her a look, asking himself what problem she would be referring to. It was happy hour, the Kuutamo was packed with a bachelor party going full swing and the order to keep the rounds coming had no end in sight. They should be working their asses off just to keep up and Bette wanted to discuss his 'problem'.

"You and Joey have a communication issue." Bette's hands were on her hips and Grant just stared at her with a single black brow arched.

"Well no duh. He can't talk and I don't know sign. We  _literally_  have a communication issue."

"His throat was slit, he's not going to learn how to talk."

"And I don't have time to learn a new language." Grant sighed, mixing up a martini in a stainless steel cocktail shaker. It took him twenty seconds to do while holding a conversation with Bette, experience had made this a job he didn't need to focus on to get right. He pushed another smile as he filled glasses up and served them to the two men who placed the order. Grant was aware he looked too weary for the smile to appear genuine but he didn't care and neither did anyone here. No one was coming to this bar to see him smile.

"Then make a gesture."

Grant stared at Bette with a certain amount of disbelief.

"Joey already  _lives_  with me, I drive him and Rose to school every morning, I pick them up, I cook, I force him to go to therapy and he damn near claws my eyes out every time. I let him bring his dumb guitar up from Maine and bought him new strings, which - turns out - weren't the right kind, he tells me to hang myself with them via text message. I text him back saying I don't think they can hold my body weight and that little monster is still trying to convince me to give it a try. Like, bitch, your ass is in a foster home if I drop dead and you won't like it there. Behaving the way he does will get him a black eye pretty fuckin' quick, I guarantee it. Try fucking running your mouth off with people who don't actually give a damn about you. Anyone with half a mind woulda slapped Joey already but  _noo_ , you can't hit a kid, no matter he punched you in the throat last week. Fucking  _ingrate_....." Grant didn't realise that at some point, he'd began muttering and grinding his teeth, fists clenched painfully tight.

Bette raised an eyebrow at his rant.

"You been wanting to get that off your chest long?"

"... Little bit." He admitted with a nod, breathing out a low exhale when the angry trance broke. If he opened his phone now, he knew he'd have ten new messages from Joey, urging him to kill himself. Seriously, that brat was so much worse after Maine. What the hell subterranean level of bitchiness did he fall upon there?

"But I don't know what to do with that...  _child_." Grant raked his hands through his hair.

"Nothing is enough for him. Nothing matters. He's not grateful for anything, I can't do a single thing right in his eyes and it's like I'm the worst person he's ever met - mind you, he knows our father."

Bette gave half a mock laugh and smirked.

"Welcome to parenting, Granted."

He leered bloody darkness and murder at her. Good god, she was so fucking helpful, always, without an exception. And she was pretending to not know his name,  _again_.

Their conversation didn't go any further, Bette went 'round back to fill up the ice, leaving the nineteen-year-old to juggle orders himself and despite the constant noise churning around, he felt solace in the pointlessness of it. Nothing like rhythmic repeating noise to comfort you.

"You got a name?"

Grant glanced up from rubbing a wine stain off the bar when he noticed someone was talking to him. It was that guy from earlier, who ordered a martini with his friend, only now he was alone. Reddish brown eyes were fixed on him with intent, the lazy crooked grin didn't look alien on the man's features. His auburn bangs were partly in his face but it didn't make it any less obvious that he was a good looking man, gracefully aged when Grant guessed he was somewhere in his forties. There was hardly a single crease of a wrinkle on his face or loss of pigment in his hair.

But Grant didn't care what he looked like.

"You met a lot of people who  _don't_ have a name?"

The man's smirk spread wider, he gave an amused scoff.

"Fair enough. I'm Wade." He extended his hand, Grant kept both of his flat on the bar, side by side. Wade got the hint quick but took his time returning to a neutral position. He didn't even look phased at the instant rejection.

"You even old enough to work here? You don't look twenty-one." No shit.

"I'd have to be twenty-one if I were drinking here. As you can see, I'm not."

"You saying you've  _never_  drunk?" Wade raised a too-knowing eyebrow and that time, his smile reached the colour of his eyes.  Grant didn't answer, he watched Wade, a little on his guard. It was rare that customers took an interest in the bartender outside of banter, it always had him on edge when the blue moon shone.

"That's what I thought." Wade looked smug, pleased with himself from a very depthless place indeed. It appeared being right over something of such small relevance was a joy to him.

"Bet you party hard, doncha?"

"Sir, this place is open to paying customers." Grant spoke curtly, willing for this person get the memo and fuck off. He wasn't a conversation piece or here for an interrogation.

"If you aren't buying anything, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

As if a word didn't go through, Wade leaned nearer over the counter, smile remaining prominent. The distance he took, Grant reclaimed with a backward step. No close proximity to this guy, thank you.

"Ever heard of gay for pay?" Wade inquired slyly,  _shamelessly_ , voice becoming a low unsettling purr and Grant nearly choked on air. What the  _fuck_? Seriously, what part of him made loser fucking creeps think he was approachable? Was it the gang tats or knife scars? Maybe it was his eternal scowl?

"Get the hell out."  He briskly ordered through is teeth,  tone sharp as a jagged shard of glass. His expression had turned dark, muscles so tense it should have been a warning to anyone. 

But  _Wade_ , apparently, wasn't anyone.

"Aww,  _c'mon_ ," Wade whined playfully, tipping his head.

"A hot-blooded young thing like you? You'd  _love_  it. Isn't that what all you kids want?"

"I swear to God, I will break your fucking fa-"

"Leave him alone, LaFarge." Came a stern French-accented voice, breaking the tension in two.

Wade rolled his eyes when his friend from earlier made his return and this time, Grant took a second look at him for safe measure. He was the same age as Wade but clearly weathered, lines brought on by his years and scars were plentiful on his face and tan skin. His hair, although originally brown, was rich with veins of silver. He was old and he actually fucking looked it. 

Frenchie shoved his creepy friend out the way, saving Grant from the force of Wade's prying gaze and still, Grant instantly disliked him. Something about him left a bitter taste in his mouth. 

"Apologies for my friend, chevreau. He often deprives his brain of blood." The Frenchman finished his sentence with a dangerous glare in Wade's direction and a sharp elbow into his ribs. Grant took satisfaction in seeing the pain flash across Wade's face.  He returned the leer to his friend indignantly, rubbing at his side.

"I'm just talkin' to the kid, Morel." 

"Zen find conversation zat is appropriate to hold. Zis young man is not a prostitute." He lectured and it quickly became obvious what their dynamic was; Wade was the idiot and Morel... less of an idiot. Grant still didn't like him, though. He wanted them both to just fuck the fuck off and let him get back to work. 

"No one is until the right price comes along," Wade grumbled sulkily, hands in his pockets but he'd given up and better so, Grant was two seconds away from splitting his face down the middle. 

Eyeing the other man, Morel sighed like a mother might, shaking his head as he turned back to Grant.

"Apologies once more. Wade is, how you say....  _retarded_?" Grant nodded. That sounded absolutely correct.

"I am Morel. Jacques Morel." Morel went on and inwardly, Grant gave the biggest sigh of his life, from the very bottom of his lungs. Couldn't these people tell he didn't want to talk or learn their names? 

"Neither one of you is fucking me, a posh French name isn't going to change that." At Grant's bluntness, Morel's brow scrunched in disgust, features screwing up as if the thought hadn't ever even occurred to him. 

"You misunderstand,  _gravely_. I do not wish to engage in coitus with you, young one."

"I  _wonder_  what gave me that  _misunderstanding_?" Grant sent Wade a look, only to regret it when the man blew him a kiss and winked. The nineteen-year-old pulled a repulsed face, lip curling back. Gross fucking pervert. Grant only needed to glance at the bouncer if he wanted to get this guy's ass tossed to the curb. Harassing the mixologist wasn't tolerated to any degree.

"Look," He put his hands on his hips. "I need to get back to work, I can't linger 'cause I don't get paid for that." 

"What if we  _imburse_  your time?" Wade's eyes glittered sinfully. Grant's fingers curled into his flesh with his patience burning on a dangerously crisp wick. A couple of years ago, he'd already have a broken bottle filling the cavity of Wade's throat. Wade was lucky those days were lived.

Grant wasn't sure what he was going to say, probably 'get lost' for the umpteenth time, but then he felt a vibration against his leg from the pocket his phone was in. He was happy for the distraction, grabbing the buzzing device quick and frowning at the unknown number.

"....  _I'm through standin' in line to clubs I'll never get in, it's like the bottom of the ninth and I'm never gonna win-"_  

He cut the ringtone off with a press of the answer icon, raising it to his ear. Thank god, maybe this meant Wade and Morel would finally fuck off.

"Yup?" 

" _Grant Wilson_?"

"Last time I checked."

" _This is Officer Reagan with the NYPD, we have your brother_ -"

" _What_? What - is he  _hurt_? Did someone do something to him?" His defective heart was already in his throat, at once he was going through the worst case scenarios before the officer could get the next word out. The cops only call when something's wrong, Joey was small and mute, easy to hurt and Grant was going to fucking  _murder_  the motherfucker who touched his little brother-

" _No, he's fine. We found him wandering around the bad part of the city after dark and we need you to come pick him up."_

Oh thank god. No one was dead.

 _"He isn't talking to us_ -"

"No, he can't talk. He's mute." Grant was already headed to get his keys, jogging and not giving his two harassers even a sideways glance. He went into the back room to grab his jacket and keys, holding the phone against his shoulder as he quickly slid his arms into the sleeves.

"I'll be there in five. Keep an eye on Joey, he might try to bolt if he knows I'm comin'."

" _Of course.  I have an officer with him now."_

"Great, graci, thank you." Grant hung up and sighed on his way out. He asked Bette to cover his shift and as always, she was fine with it. A nod and a hummed 'yes' was all, no demand as to where he was going, what he was doing, and it was something he'd always appreciated about her. Bette didn't ask why. She just accepted he had his reasons and rolled with it.

When he half-ran through the bar to the door, he took note but no interest in the fact that Wade and Morel were gone as quietly as they came. As implied, he really didn't care if they'd crawled into an alley to fuck each other.

The immediate fear that had seized Grant when a cop called about Joey, that was scarier than Adeline had ever been. He'd never been worried like that before, if only for a window of two seconds. The relief of knowing Joey wasn't hurt was so overwhelming that Grant didn't even care why the kid had been wandering around New York City's streets at one AM in the morning. He'd address it later.

He got his ass over to the station fast and a member of  the skeleton crew lead him to his baby brother.

Leaning on a wall with his arms folded, Joey had a scowl on  before Grant came into his view. That's strange, his guitar was there with him, in its case and the kid bared his teeth and hissed at anyone who glanced at the instrument in passing. 

Pale green eyes with too much anger behind them locked on Grant and drilled deep, all the way to his bones  but he pushed it aside the way he'd learned to with his little brother.

"Hello, baby kangaroo." Grant nodded his head and sensed he got under the kid's skin just by acknowledging then talking to him. Grant turned to the officer standing by with his hands on his loaded belt and eyelids drooping.

"I'm here to pick Joey up. We spoke on the phone." 

"Ah, right," he nodded, head a little heavy and neck stiff, it didn't take a lot to realise he was drop dead tired and Grant did hope he was getting paid enough to make up for his hours. He wasn't, but the hope was there.

"Well, sir, we found your little brother between 51 West and Flint's drive. There's been gang activity there recently, it's not safe for anyone, let alone a kid." 

Grant was grim when hearing the location, he knew all too well how cut-throat it was around those parts, specifically after the sun went down. It scared him to think what could have easily happened to Joey there, more than he wanted to know why he was anywhere near Flint's, to begin with.

Blowing his cheeks out, Grant bobbed his head in a controlled fashion as he took in the information.

"Gotcha. Thank you for calling, officer. You might have saved my family a funeral." And that was sincere, it was in the news almost daily how stabbings and shootings happened down at Flint's. He didn't want to think about the possibility of seeing his brother's name in one of those articles.

"A'ight, corn pop," Grant turned on his heel to Joey, the kid glared. He looked like an angry little kitten, which might have been cute in any less weary mind state. 

"Let's head home." Grant made to carry his guitar for him -  _why did he have it with anyway?_ \- but Joey's fingers curled tighter around the handle, eliciting a small hiss for him to not even try to touch it. Fine.  _Sheesh_. Grant put his hands up as a gesture of surrender and headed for the glass double doors, the car was on the street and miraculously, the windows hadn't been smashed in yet. 

He managed to get Joey to allow him to load the instrument into the back, across the seats, and they didn't linger on the curb, neither looking at the other when they got into the vehicle. Grant turned the keys in the ignition in silence and pulled away from the station, starting down the road into the inky blackness the overhanging lights were barely illuminating. New York seemed cold and dark tonight, more so than ever.

The world was plunged into quietness, or maybe it wasn't and Grant was just focusing too hard on Joey as the kid watched the city passing by through the window, head lightly resting on the window. His soft breaths were misting it up, pastel eyes hollow and tired as they flitted over the buildings and parked cars and the odd hooded late-night stroller. There was something pressing on his heart, that wasn't hard to see, and if they had any sort of a bond Grant wondered if they would talk about it.

He chewed on the inside of his cheek. It worried him that Joey was out where he was when he was, did he not understand the danger or just not care?

"Jo... why were you that far from  home?" Grant cautiously inquired, already braced for the explosion but if it happened, it was kept contained. Joey tugged his phone from his pocket, typed a couple of lines and showed him the screen. 

' _Home is in Maine. I was just out for a walk._ '  A walk, huh?

"You could have gotten hurt really bad, Joey.  People are evil here and you're small, you're pretty, and you're aphonic, what do you think some gangster  _wouldn't_  do to you? Don't go out at night like that again, you're gonna get knifed or worse."

 _'Why do you care?'_ Although he couldn't express any emotion through words, the accusatory tone came through just by his features. He made it out to look like Grant had no right to care about him or Rose. Maybe he didn't, maybe Joey wasn't wrong. 

"You're my brother. I don't want anyone or anything to harm you, even if you think that's not true." He exhaled quietly through his teeth, focusing his gaze on the road and safely taking the next turn. He didn't think talking to Joey was going to get him any mileage into being understood. He was long past hopeless with his baby brother.

Joey presented him with a face full of phone screen again. 

 _'Why're you so paranoid about NY after dark?_ ' He tilted his head with the question as if it was unreasonable for Grant to have this stance. Another sigh escaped his lungs.

"Because I was a street urchin for over a year, Jo. I've seen what a lotta people would do to a defenceless kid given the chance, especially in this city." Grant wasn't grim, he was just informative when laying out that cold hard truth. Joey, for all his bitchiness, grew up sheltered in the countryside of Maine, the dangers of city streets weren't something he was familiar with. Or then he did know and... wanted to get hurt. No. That was a dumb thought. Joey didn't have problems like that.

"First time you let your guard down for anyone, you'll get a knife in the ribs. You can't trust anyone, especially if they try to earn it from you. They're gonna want something in return. I didn't know that once but I do now. I was stupid, just like you, didn't think anything could hurt me and that's how I ended up in East Coast Bloods." If his expression was anything to go by, Grant's little brother recognised that as the name of a notorious drug trafficking gang here in the city. How's that for shock value? 

"So  _please_ , even though you wish I'd drop dead, listen to me with this. I know more about it than you. Just 'cause you're an angsty teenager doesn't mean you can play around with your safety by deliberately going where you can be hurt." Grant was serious in every sense of the word, he wanted his tone to get it across how damn deadly wandering around in the AMs was in a world dominated by street gangs.

With the information and lecture setting in, Joey stayed quieter than his muteness already made him, he was wearing a rather thoughtful frown as if he didn't ever suspect that part of Grant's past existed. To be honest, he probably didn't as he seemed to live in the illusion that his big brother's life was nothing but smooth mirror-surfaced oceans. And now he was mulling it over. Kid might think that street-thing was a lie. 

To break the tense silence he couldn't stand, Grant leaned forward to switch the radio on and flicked through the channels until something he liked came on.  _Someday, Nickelback_. The synthesizer opened up to the crisp acoustic guitar and gravelly voice of Chad Kroeger.

" _How the hell'd we wind up like this? Why weren't we able, to see the signs that we missed - try turn the tables_..."

The music filled the car, Grant recited the lyrics through his head without stalling on what came next. It was inviting him to focus on its flowing melody and the road ahead instead of all the things that plagued him on the basis. It was one of the few ways existence felt less bitter, if only for the average of three minutes.

Joey moved and Grant expected it to be to show him another comment on the screen of his phone, likely a jibe at his taste in music and this band, but the kid only turned the volume up slightly. 

Surprised, Grant stared at him from the corner of his eye and without meeting his gaze, Joey gestured to the radio and gave him a small thumbs-up. He focused his sights on the dash like he was reluctant to admit the song appealed to him. 

"So we got something in common, huh?" Grant smirked despite it all and Joey ignored he existed then. Completely and utterly since he would rather slit his own wrists than admit they shared anything outside of genetic donors. The kid pulled a knee to his chest and stared out at the city, subconsciously rubbing his fingers over the pale green sweatband he was always wearing. There was that nervous tick again.

"Don't worry," he turned back to the road. "I won't tell anyone."

"...  _Someday, somehow, I'm gonna make it alright but not right now_..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based upon two panels from The Lazarus Contract where a friend of Grant's was singing a cover of Rockstar in the background, I have deduced our tattooed lad is a die-hard Nickelback fanboy and I cannot and will not be convinced otherwise. Besides, I need a fellow fan and if I can't find one, then dammit, I'll force a fictional character to share in my interests.


	6. The Bitch Problem

From the corner of her eye, Rose studied her eldest brother hoisting his body up and down on the pull-up bar in the kitchen door. It was his day off, the weekend, he was bored, clearly. He'd been doing that for an hour straight with nothing but sweat and low grunts to show, not a lot to see really, she turned her attention back to the laptop in front of her on the table.

Rose was collecting information on the enemy. Dad, a military man, had taught her that recon was a must before launching any kind of counter attack. Intel required. Too many grey areas.

She was on Instagram, on Carol's page of 100K followers. Every picture she posted was either of her tits or ass or both. But there were some wholesome images in there too, ones where she'd snared Grant with an arm around his neck and shoved a camera phone into his face. He looked immensely uncomfortable, some people in the comment section pointed it out but in her own words, Carol brushed it off as 'bae's just being  _shy_ '.

Thoughtfully, Rose's gaze flitted to the people drooling over Grant and leaving filthy remarks. Her expression hardened. Call her old fashioned, Rose didn't like the number of Internet users who desired to bed her brother. Carol loved the attention, she bet, wholly enjoyed others wanting what she had. Tall, dark and stormy-eyed arm candy, as someone so eloquently put it.

Rose frowned in disapproval. There were folks in their mid-thirties here, jerking off to a teenager. They probably thought Grant was older, considering how Carol was twenty-one according to her bio. And with that in mind, Rose scrolled and scrolled through Carol's homepage until thousands of posts later, she found the earliest mention of her brother. Two years ago.

Grant frequently aged himself up for certain situations but he didn't trap people, he would have made it known he was seventeen when he and Carol met, and she was a duo of years into adulthood.

"Grant, is your girlfriend a statutory rapist?" Rose popped the question as casually as anything and her brother lost his grip on the pull bars. He dropped heavily onto his feet with a thud, sending her a quick and confused glance.

"Why would you say that?" He came over and Rose turned the laptop so he could see what she was looking at. He scanned it quick and understood quicker. Pinching the inside of his cheek between his teeth, Grant did not look enthusiastic for this conversation.

"She was nineteen when you guys met." Rose tipped her head back to look at him, ready and waiting for a reply.

"I was eighteen a month later and we didn't....  _Do_  anything before then." Grant rubbed his neck uncomfortably, gaze momentarily flitting elsewhere. How proper, he was reluctant to discuss his and his girlfriend's sex life with his thirteen-year-old little sister. Screw what Slade said about him, Grant was the least corrupting influence there was.

"It's still creepy." She stated and she would and could not be convinced otherwise. Carol was a predator as far as she was concerned, a fucking sexual predator. Rose folded her arms stubbornly, putting up a resilient face. She would die before her beliefs did.

" _Age gaps aren't that creepy, sis._ " Lingering by the doorway, Joey had popped in enough to hear their conversation and insert his own thoughts on it.

"It is when one party is underage upon meeting."

" _Not if they love each other._ "

"See if that holds up in a court of law." She scoffed with an unimpressed eye roll. Really, Joseph was so  _naive_. Such a child.

"She's right, Seph." Grant chimed in.

"That 'age is just a number' bullshit you hear pedos using isn't a justification. Adults should not be boning kids, even if the kid says yes. It's that simple." He finished by popping the fridge open and frowning at its contents. It was that time of day where Grant planned on what he would whip up for lunch, he liked to present his siblings with a variety when it came to food. It sometimes took him a while to decide, he turned his lip ring with the tip of his tongue as he mulled it over. Rose had observed it was a compulsive tick of his. Joey was always rubbing fingers around his wrist and Grant played with his piercing; they really were brothers. It restored her faith in her family... to a degree.

Joey had discovered this thing recently on his phone, a text-to-speech app, and its tinny flat voice spoke through the tiny speakers.

" _That logic apply when the adult has big boobs_?" He arched a blond brow and Rose nodded to herself. Yes, thank you, Joseph, Carol was a fucking creep.

Grant clicked his tongue in irritation, tipping his head back and shutting the fridge with a bang, arms overflowing with all the ingredients for hot dogs.

"Joey, we're not talking about this." Dismissing them, he spread everything out on the counter with both his younger siblings staring at him like wanting little puppies starved for attention. It went on until Grant caved as quickly as they'd silently bet. He sighed, loudly, exaggeratedly.

"Tell you what, poppets," hands clasped, he spun around on his heel to face them, so much feigned enthusiasm coming off him that it was nearly the scariest thing Rose had ever seen.

"We're going out today."

" _No_." Joey's phone flatly punched a pin through the plan before it was even really one.

"Where?" Rose inquired with a frown, quirking her head slightly. On one hand, she was intrigued but on the other, she wasn't a city person, really, and spending time outside in New York sounded about as much fun as watching paint dry.

"Where's the suspense if I tell you?"

"The devil's in the details, Grant;  _spill_."

"Little sis, I've been in forty-eight police interrogations and no one's gotten me to talk yet. You're not the exception."

"Concerning analogy but... okay." Rose's brow furrowed further as she watched her brother open up his phone and check the weather forecast. She would be confused by his spontaneous decision making if she didn't know he was bored. This made sense in the mind of a bored person.

Or then he was making an effort. If that was the case, who was she to deny him?

She heard Joey give a frustrated sigh when Grant confirmed they were going out for a spell and she smiled to herself. She didn't know what to expect but anything was a welcome break next to researching someone as basic as Carol. Of course, Rose liked boobs as much as the next guy but after seeing images of her brother's girlfriend's spread out across Instagram, she needed a mental health break.

Grant was putting things in a duffel bag, looked like they weren't eating here, Joey planned to  slink away to avoid wherever it was that brother wanted to go, and Rose packed up the laptop, careful to delete the browser history. She did not need Carol to know she was being looked into.

"Where're you off to, baby?" Speak of the bitch, Carol appeared in the doorway and Rose almost gagged.  _Fuck_ , she hated that slut, here with her tits hanging out again. She didn't even remember Carol was in the building for all the unremarkableness she was made of.

"Just taking the kids on a field trip." Grant replied, completely unbothered by her repulsive presence. What did he see in her? How could he  _stomach_  her?

"You wanna come?" He suggested with a hint of hopefulness and Rose felt sick at the thought. No way she was going in a car with  _Carol_. 

Purposefully, with distaste Grant didn't pick up on, Carol's cynical gaze went over Rose then Joey, pretending to consider when her mind was already made up.

"I'll have to pass this time, got some errands to run today." Like sure she did. Her itinerary was probably just puffing her chest out in front of the bathroom mirror and taking selfies no one cared about.

Grant shrugged, fairly impartial.

"Alright. I'm sure the three of us will be fine." Oh better than.

Sashaying over, Carol wound her arms around Grant's neck and open-mouth kissed him, pushing her tongue past his teeth. Rose almost puked. The bitch pretty much forced herself onto brother, he didn't resist her or appear to mind, which didn't explain away her possessive hold.

Parting her eyes a crack, Carol smirked in Rose's direction before she pulled away from Grant, leaving the clear pink colour of her lip gloss behind.

"I want you back by evening, m'kay, baby?" Carol told him with a gross smile and Grant nodded, wiping gloss off his lips onto the back of his hand. He looked confused as to why she initiated the kiss, little did he know his girlfriend and sister were engaged in a silent war. Rose wasn't sure who Grant would side with but she hoped she wouldn't have to find out. This wasn't for brother to worry about.

Grant went into the other room for something shortly thereafter, leaving them with his girlfriend and Rose felt the tension shift from controlled to so tightly wound that someone had a chance of dying. Carol dropped her fake demeanour for her real bitchy self the moment she was alone with the remaining siblings.

Switching her phone on, clicking on the camera, Rose expected to be the brunt of her jibes but no, she turned to Joey, lingering by the door.

"Word of advice, mute, cutting vertically is more effective. You'll bleed out faster."

Lowering his gaze, Joey pulled his hands into the sleeves of his hoodie, folding his arms, a nervous tongue swiping his lips. He didn't or couldn't look at her, too busy making sure not an inch of his wrists could be seen.

A low growl building in her throat, Rose heard her blood bubbling in her ears. She caught that comment on the camera, a nice little three-second video to add to her growing evidence folder, but she didn't wallow in the sweetness of victory.

Slade had always said his daughter needed to learn how to protect herself, he'd had her in self-defence classes for years and she hadn't ever wanted to break someone's trachea more. Her teeth clicked when they set.

".... Or maybe you should try cutting your throat again. Get lucky and get the job done this time."

With an agile bounce, Rose deftly caught the pull bar Grant had been entertaining himself with earlier and adjusted her grip according to her body weight.

"Hey, Carol," She caught the bitch's attention and swung back on the bar to deal her a sharp kick beneath the chin when momentum brought her in. Smack. Yelping, Carol's teeth clamped on the tip of her tongue, she stumbled back and Grant walked in just then.

"Oh my god - I'm so sorry." Rose released the bar, dropped onto her feet and sprinted over to Carol, doubled over with her hand covering her mouth and split lip. So the silicone injections didn't cushion the blow? So fucking sad.

It was a pain in the ass to act like she didn't mean it but Rose had to make Grant think so. He'd just wring himself out over the reality of this.

"Grant, I was just trying to do that thing you were doing - I didn't mean to-" Rose tried to explain while her brother hurried over, giving a rapid nod of understanding despite not fully listening.

"Babe, are you alright?" Grant's hands came to help Carol up, he was so worried that his expression could tug on anyone's heartstrings.

Carol didn't do him the decency of replying, instead leering murderously at Rose and the girl replied with the slight upturn of the corners of her lips. Grant didn't see that, he was too busy fussing over his witch and that's when it truly hit Rose; her brother was worlds too good for this whore.

"I'm sorry, Grant." Rose glanced up at him, meeting his pale eyes and she put on her most genuine show of guilt. It wasn't easy, this was  _Carol_ , but she could tell he bought it. Bless, for all his tough guy look, Grant was very gullible in certain areas.

"It's alright, Ro. It's just a cut." Grant assured her, holding Carol's chin in his hand and turning her face to inspect the damage. It wasn't bad, Rose could have done a lot worse. Carol deserved worse and would get it.

Grant took his worthless girlfriend into the bathroom where the medicine cabinet resided and left Rose with Joey. She glanced at her second older brother, he mouthed a quiet 'thanks', hands still pulled into his sleeves, fabric bunched around his fists.

"Thank me by not cutting. It doesn't fix anything, have you noticed?"

" _Yes_ _but it sure is therapeutic_." When he moved his hands to sign, the green sweatband he hid the scars with flashed into view. It turned her stomach.

Rose scowled at him. She had tried to have this conversation with Joey before but he was deliberately ignorant to the real damage he was causing himself. The moment it came up, he transformed into a conceited, uncaring prick. He was almost smug about running his skin raw and honestly, it pissed Rose off. With  _everything_  that had happened, Joey wanted to make it worse for himself?

"Don't let our brother find out. He doesn't need your stupid mutilating to worry about."

" _I'm sure he'd feel compelled to stop me."_  Joey rolled his eyes. Rose didn't reply, the argument would go on forever since Joey couldn't get it through his thick skull that Grant cared about him. And the icing on top, with her mom already dead and dad not coming back this lifetime, Rose got to worry about one brother dying of heart failure and the other idiot cutting too deep and bleeding to death. If her hair wasn't white naturally, this stress would have done it for her already. Both of her siblings could die.

Focusing on destroying Carol helped Rose not to think about it.

Surprisingly, Grant still wanted to go out and though he was a bit distracted, he packed some stuff to come with and apparently, Carol was fine which was.... frickin' great. He fully bought the lie Rose fed him, which made her feel bad about telling it but in the long run, it was the smart choice.

As they all expected, Joey did not let himself be dragged along without a fight, Grant ended up picking him up with one arm around his middle and carrying him out, to a very cinematic protest from him. He kicked, a  _lot_. In physical contact, there couldn't have been more of a clash between their skins tones, Joey's fair and ghost-like while Grant's was a beautiful dusky hue. Another thing with a noticeable contrast was their hair, the sunshine blond beside deep sable didn't make for a sibling resemblance.

Her own wavy lengths getting in her face, Rose wished that she had Grant's pin-straight and very manageable locks, which god know's whose genetics he got it from. Adeline had corkscrew curls for days while Slade's snowy tresses were in the wavier spectrum.

She sometimes wondered if Slade and Adeline found an issue in the fact that Grant didn't bear much resemblance to them and that's why they were so needlessly cruel toward him. They treated her and Joey just fine. No violence or belittlement. It might well be that, Wilsons were like a cult in the sense that they had a very specific look and if you didn't fall into it, you were as good as outcasted. It came from her dad's side -  _unsurprisingly_  -, Rose vaguely recalled stories of Slade having a brother who didn't bear the family resemblance in any way. He was spoken of so little, she'd never met him, so she suspected he was exiled too. Or then he didn't exist and mom's occasional ramblings about him could be attributed to the loss of sanity.

At the car, Rose watched as Grant stuffed Joey into the back by force, almost getting his teeth kicked in and she did ask herself why big brother bothered to the extent that he did. He wasn't doing himself any good.

On habit, she patted her pockets down but didn't feel the familiar rise of her phone. Scowling in annoyance, it came back to her that she'd left it charging on the kitchen counter.

"Grant, I forgot my phone inside. Can I go fetch it?" Rose asked him, he nodded and tossed her the keys to the apartment, which she caught deftly in both hands. She had her own set but those resided in her backpack, in her bedroom.

"Be quick." Grant told her, leaning all of his weight against the door to keep Joey from escaping. 

Turning on her heel, she jogged back into the building and considered the elevator, but it was only the seventh floor and she was getting out of shape, a bit of staircase running would do her good.

On the way up, Rose took notice of a man standing in the hallway on the same floor they lived on, and she slowed her pace to a walk, frowning to herself. He was just lingering there, not searching for his keys or looking at something on his phone. 

Immediately, something about him struck her, despite that by all standards, he was an average looking chap with the red-brown russet hair and eyes of a matching tone. He was dressed in a long tan trench coat, his hands as deep into the pockets as they could go and he was staring dully at the wall as if hidden answers resided in the strokes of paint.

Rose had familiarised herself with everyone on seventh, she'd never seen him before.

He noticed her approaching and a smile of no real name turned the corners of his lips.

"Out for a walk?"

The girl came to a total halt before she reached the guy, apprehensive about something to do with him. She could see the door to the apartment, a few spaces from where he stood but she didn't want to walk by. The unashamed way his gaze bore into her made her skin crawl. He was staring at every inch of her in a single glance.

"You don't live on this floor..." Rose suspiciously observed, narrowing her eye to capture him in a unmoving stare.

"I'm thinking about it." He replied, ever smiling in that pleasant way of his. The expression, it looked remarkably natural on his features.

"I'm Wade. Who might you be?"

"Someone who doesn't give my name to strangers."

"Aww, really?" Wade tipped his head to one side.

"Then how do you make new friends?"

"Judgement. I have a good sense of people." Rose was already backing away. She didn't like Wade's crooked lazy smirk or his whole demeanour. She wasn't sure how, but he was bad news and she felt it.

"That's a useful skill." Wade went on, he got closer by a foot.

"What do you sense about me?"

Not answering, Rose rotated around, heading down the hallway with a brisk step. She wasn't inclined to have a lengthier conversation with him than she'd already fallen prey to. Before she turned into the flight of stairs, out of view, she felt the weight of Wade's eyes on her retreating back. He stared after all the way.

Rose was thrilled when he couldn't see her anymore. She took the steps in threes, eager to return to her siblings. Her phone wasn't so important, all of a sudden. Wade, despite the shortness of their interaction, there was something to him that made Rose on high alert, tense with unease for no apparent reason.

Hopefully, he wouldn't be standing there in the hallway when they came back.

Rose briefly entertained the idea of telling Grant and getting him to chase Wade away. Her big strong brother was more than intimidating enough to frighten someone half his age into fucking off. On top of that, he was protective, she only needed to hint that someone made her feel unsafe and he would deal with it.

But then she repeated to herself that Grant was already living in the red zone, Rose wasn't going to give him anything more if it wasn't necessary.

She didn't want to kill him. 

"Did you find your phone?" Grant asked when she came out into the street again. He had the windows wound down, already waiting in the car with his hands on the wheel. 

"Decided I don't need it."  Rose mumbled, pulling the passenger side door open and getting in,  focusing her gaze on the heat kissed dash, hot to the touch under the late autumn sun's last rays.

Grant was looking at her, there was the usual concern that made Rose guilty.

"You alright, Ro?" He inquired and Joey leaned through the seats, attention peaked by their brother's question. He too looked at Rose and knit his brows, she noticed in the rearview mirror that she was a little pale.

" _What's wrong_?" Joey moved his hands to make the words.

Inwardly, Rose forced herself to take a consoling breath of air and return herself to normal. Despite being disturbing, Wade was probably nothing for her to worry about or her brothers to be concerned over her for.

"I'm okay. Just outta breath from the stairs." Rose assured with a smile as she pulled her seatbelt out and shut it.

Wherever Grant was taking them, she hoped it was remarkable enough to get her mind off things. Like mom always told her, if overthinking was a sin, she would be Sodom and Gomorrah.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And next, we enjoy some wholesome sibling bonding wherever it is that Grant wants to go.


	7. Pretend

_'This is boring and I hate you.'_

Joey wrote it in the sand and tried to get his dumb idiot sandwich brother to notice, but Grant had long since stopped paying his messages any attention and instead, he worked on his tan. He was laying on his back with his eyes shut and hands crossed over his middle.... as if he actually  _needed_  to tan. That being said, there was certainly enough late Autumn sunlight here to get a boost of melanin from, here at this lakeside shoreline. It was almost two hours from the city, secluded, trees and mountains on every side with very few other people here, some having barbecues while the bold ones braved the chilly waters to splash about.

The bold ones like Rose, she'd stripped down to a sports bra, waded hip-deep and was chatting up a girl she'd made friends within the short while they'd been here.

Meanwhile, Joey was poking Grant in the ribs with a stick, trying to get his attention with the constant jabs. So far, big brother was doing a perfect job ignoring it but he was definitely aware, however, he focused more on whatever tunes his headphones were feeding him.

Grant only had one earbud in, he was responsible enough to not completely cut his hearing off, in case his little siblings might need him for something. Wouldn't mom and dad be proud of how accountable the bad kid had become? Joey reluctantly admitted to himself that his brother was making this thing work better than he'd expected, but he'd still rather be with Ish.

Speaking of, those custody papers would show up soon and Joey truly wasn't sure how Grant would react, but he'd flip out, that's for certain. Joey had irritated brother before, annoyed him, ticked him off but he knew he'd never actually  _angered_  him. He was afraid Grant would be as scary as dad when he was angry. Or would he be worse? 

"I'd thank you to stop that, infantile kangaroo." Grant muttered through a tight jaw, finally regarding Joey and the point of the stick he was jabbing into his ribs. Scowling at his inanimate form, Joey, at last, stopped probing Grant when brother opened his eyes to narrow slivers of moonlight blue, quietly glaring at him for daring to intrude into his bubble.

"Do you want something, Joey?"

No. Not really. Joey just enjoyed Grant's torment at his hand. Little brothers were allowed to, it was justified simply by order of birth.

With a low exhale, Grant propped himself up, leaning back on his arms and giving Joey a less salty look this time, one that lasted longer. He took his headphones out, wound them around his phone and placed both into the safety of his pocket.

"Aren't you hot in that?" With the question, he gestured to the white sweatshirt Joey was burritoed in, hood drawn and sleeves over his hands. It was four sizes too big, billowing around him like a sail when the wind hit, and it was much too thick for this weather. Inside, Joey was sweating bullets and overheating, except he shook his head and mouthed that he was cold.

Grant could probably see that was a lie, given how Joey's skin was flustered from the heat but he refused to remove the garment. He fucked up again last night, there were gaping ladder rungs half-way up his forearm that his sweatband alone couldn't hide. Until he got another one, he couldn't let his siblings see his arms.

They'd just make it a bigger deal than it was.

The cuts were stinging, burning, Joey tried not to have his sleeve touch them but it didn't help with the pain that much. As often when he had a rare second of clarity, he wondered why he did this to himself and what he thought it'd accomplish. And then when the next difficult thing came along, or the next anxiety attack, he was back to trying to fix it by slitting himself open. In a way, it was as tragicomical as it was pathetic.

For a while, Grant supervised Rose paddling about with the other girl, before he turned back to Joey.

"Mom and dad ever take you swimming?" He asked like he was trying to make small talk, but he did seem genuinely curious.

In the sand, Joey wrote 'sometimes' with his finger and Grant leaned in to read it. Back in Maine, there was a lake not far from where their home and multiple rivers to spend summer days in. Grant knew that, of course. He'd lived there too.

' _Didn't you ever go_?'

Grant shrugged at the question.

"Woulda if I'd been 20% sure Adeline wasn't gonna drown me." He smiled jokingly, nonchalantly, but... Joey could see something past that, a tinge of truth that he brushed out of mind. He had to remember his brother was a dramatic person with a tendency for exaggeration. He always joked about stupid stuff.

Joey swept the sand smooth with his hand and scrawled new letters and a new topic.

' _Do you think age gaps are wrong_?' It was interesting that earlier, Grant had defended his relationship with his bitch, even when she was older. Joey wondered if  _all_  similar relationships were justifiable.

"Sometimes. Depends. Carol's only two years older than me, we're consenting adults, it's fine for us." Grant immediately caught onto what Joey was thinking about, only he didn't know why that was on his mind. Oh, he'd flip if he found out about Joey's relationship with Ish. It wasn't wrong, it was misunderstood.

"What  _is_  wrong, is when there's an adult in a relationship with a child."

Only if the child was actually a child. Ish always told him he didn't think of Joey as one and that he behaved older, and Joey didn't feel like a kid, so that made it okay, didn't it? Besides, it's not like Ish was a paedophile who went after actual children, he knew what was right and what wasn't. Joey trusted him.

"But why're you asking?" Grant leaned on one shoulder and suddenly aware of his gaze, Joey pulled himself deeper into the folds of his suffocating hoodie.

' _You said it was okay with you and Carol. Was just wondering if you actually thought it was okay_.'

"Me an' Carol weren't even dating for the first year. We were friends for ages before. We didn't set out to be a thing."  _Clearly_. They were such a fucking mess they made all relationships out to be functional. Even mom's and dad's. Carol was an abusive slutbag and Grant was....

"C'mon, Jo. Let's grab some driftwood and get some food on." Yawning, Grant picked himself up, raising his arms above his head and stretching. His shirt rode up his midriff slightly, Joey wondered if he intentionally did that just to show off his abs to the bunch of bikini-clad girls who'd been watching them since they got here. They whispered among each other and giggled behind their hands.

Joey rolled his eyes. His brother wasn't  _that_  attractive. This attention wasn't warranted.

Standing a little unsteadily, Joey evened out his balance and went after Grant, who was already picking up bits of driftwood the waves had washed ashore. Out the corner of his eye, he glanced at his little sister, still in the water with the girl. It was that easy to make friends, huh?

* * *

 

"... You  _kicked_  her in the face?" The other girl, Rachel, laughed at Rose's story, splashing another small wave at her that she sent right back, little ripples moving around her midriff.

"She insulted my bros, she had it coming." Rose shrugged and then grinned and they continued with their unimpressive water fight, something they'd been doing since they started talking. Grant didn't trust strangers, Joey was as antisocial as they came but Rose was determined to be the pioneer of human interaction in her family. Besides, was she supposed to  _not_  go chat up the cute goth girl while one brother was tanning and the other poking him with a stick? Thank you, Rose knew how to prioritise and accordingly spend her time. The halfwits would survive a moment without her supervision.

"I need someone to kick my step-mom in the teeth too." Rachel joked but Rose wouldn't be surprised if she was being serious. Apparently, her step-mother broke up her parents' marriage and that was deserving of a good kick.

In any case, Rose would be willing to offer her services and achieve that.

"Gimme a call when you need it done." 

Rachel smiled, biting her lip slightly when she saw what Rose was actually doing.

"You asking for my number?"

"Well, I lost mine so if you could lend me yours..." Rose shrugged nonchalantly and was treated to another playful wave that made her hair wet. Giggling, she backed away and threw water at the other girl with both hands and it didn't take long for them to be drenched. She didn't really care that her brothers glanced in their direction now and then, while they were building a fire to cook with, she presumed.

Maybe she could lead by example and they'd learn a thing or two about socialising.

Water fight forgotten, Rachel was looking at someone on the beach with an irritated eye, someone calling her over and waving, and she rolled her eyes with a huff.

"That'd be my step-mom. She's currently tryna set me up with her friend's son, he's over there." She pointed to another set of people and Rose followed her finger to the teenage boy sitting by who might be his mother, an overweight woman, flustered and fanning herself with a magazine that's title Rose couldn't read from this distance. The boy was lanky, skinny, pale and donning a shock of dull gingery hair and through his heavy-lidded gaze, he was stealing glances of the flock of girls further down the beach.  They were in their bathing suits and taking pictures with their friends, the little perv of a boy was focusing with intense interest at their chests and asses. 

Ah, so he was  _that_  kind of a boy.

Rose didn't feel too bad about the girls getting perved on, not with how they were staring at her brother and mentally undressing him, but she did feel for Rachel.

She gave the girl a sympathetic look when she directed her attention back to her.

"Boys are lame." She simply said and sucking her teeth, Rachel gave a heartfelt nod.

"I don't understand why we put up with them."

Again, Rose found herself shrugging.

"I love my brothers but I can't say I've never considered trading them for sisters."

Rachel watched Joey throw a handful of sand at Grant, she smiled in amusement with a cocked brow and tilted head, purple hair falling over one shoulder.

"I'm so glad I don't got brothers."

"They ain't so bad." That wasn't really true, Joey made up for Grant's lack of bitchiness entirely but she still loved them. They just made it hard sometimes. Especially when they were throwing sticks and sand at one another like some sort of juveniles.

Rachel was going to respond, she had her jaws parted just for that but whatever she was going to say, it was cut off by her step-mom screaming from the beach.

" _RACHEL-_! Don't be rude, come talk with Jimmy!"  Jimmy being the red-headed pervert, Rose would guess and she could tell Rachel was getting irritated with that woman bellowing at her. She just couldn't accept that Rachel simply didn't  _want_  to go talk with that boy. Rose understood why, he didn't look like her type of person either and especially not if her step-mother made them talk just because she wanted them to get involved. It was probably because their moms were friends and they thought it'd be cute, but quite frankly, no way was Rachel in Jimmy's league. 

" _Rachel_!!"

"I gotta get it through to her to leave me alone about Jimmy. Think you can help me out?" Rachel raised a sleek black brow with a crooked smirk, it wasn't at all secret what she meant and Rose was quite alright with that.

Obliging quite happily, Rose drew her in, inclined her face and laid her lips over Rachel's, her vanilla chapstick a sweet tingle to linger on. The other girl's mouth brushed on hers softly, delicately, like the wings of a butterfly, the welcoming warmth of her body more than enough to make the water's coldness fade away.

Rachel's hands landed softly on Rose's hips, tightening only to bring her in closer. Heat filled her cheeks when their bodies touched, Rose groaned quietly, low in her throat, and her arms circled Rachel. This chance encounter and favour, it made Rose breathless in a new and fascinating way she could get used to.

Just as it was heating up, a wave stronger than the ones before rocked into the girls and made them break apart, stumbling for balance with their hands still on one another. Rachel giggled when she gripped Rose's forearms for balance, giving her a pearly smile that sang with the beautiful brightness of her eyes. It was like bluey-grey stars had descended from the milky way to highlight her pretty face.

"I guess we picked a bad spot for this, huh?" Rachel observed over inquired, sending a glance to the shoreline and the frothy lake foam spilling onto it.

"It doesn't feel so bad to me." Rose smiled, taking Rachel's hands in hers. They fit perfectly.

"You're cute... But we should head back to the beach. The waves are picking up." Indeed they were. The water had gotten rougher, greyer, colder, and the clouds on the horizon were darkening with the promise of rain.

Of a like mind, Rose didn't need to say she agreed, she started moving back towards the land, fingers intertwined with Rachel's beneath the lake's surface. They didn't know each other but this girl had a way about her that made it seem like they had never been strangers.

But that was only to deter the step-mom and Jimmy. And speaking of,

"Look at Jimmy." Rachel grinned, gesturing to the gaping boy whose mother was talking the step-mom's ear off, no doubt ranting about that kiss they just witnessed.

"They're strict Christians. I'm gonna get the Bible recited to me on the drive home." Rachel did not sound bothered by that, not at all. Her voice was cocky and confident, it suited her so well.  Rose liked to hear it but... she was gonna pretend Rachel wanted to kiss her for other reasons than to say 'fuck you' to her step-mother.

Pretend used to be Rose's favourite game and she still played sometimes. Like now. 

But that was dumb. They'd known each other for two seconds and Rose wasn't one of those hopeless true-love romantics. She didn't get attached. She got it. That was just the foolish part of her that yearned for human feeling speaking. Joey was too angsty to ever hug her and Grant was... well, he had issues with emotion. She got that, too.

When they came ashore, her brothers were staring at them with their jaws practically on the floor. Joey's eyes had gone impossibly wide, to the size of saucers and Grant was experiencing some ten kinds of disbelief.

Gathering the smug, Rose put her arm around Rachel's waist, pulled her in closer and gave her brothers a smirk and wink, Rachel was smiling too. Slyly. 

Rachel's step-mom yelled at her a lot but the girl didn't mind, she was too busy being self-satisfied by pissing her off. They were going home, the step-mother announced loudly, but before they did, Rachel surprised Rose when she wrote her phone number onto the back of her hand with a sharpie.

"Just in case you need a reprieve from your brothers." Rachel told her with a smile, kissing her cheek before she was all but dragged away by her step-mother. There was talk of a conversion camp with Rachel's name on it.

Rose watched them go, she waved and her hand fell half-heartedly to her side when the car was out of sight. Biting her lip, she rubbed the sharpie off until the numbers were an indiscernible smudge of black. People come and go, Rose preferred to be the person going.

It hurt less. It's not like Rachel would remember her tomorrow.

"She was cute." Grant observed when he came up behind her and cast her in his shadow. Rose nodded, still staring in the direction the car had gone. It was an empty road now, nothing worth looking at residing there.

"Never thought I'd see my little sis picking girls up." Brother went on with a smile he was trying to break the ice with. Ever in tune, Grant had a way of picking up on Rose's lows, no matter how subtle they were or hard she tried to hide she experienced them. His gentle, calm voice was something that never failed to draw her back above water. It made her feel like the part of her that wanted human emotion wasn't so dumb after all.

Not for the first time, Rose was pissed at her parents for robbing her of her brother in the early years. It sucked what happened, the crash, the maiming, but honestly, it was worth the reconnection to Grant.

Or at least, she thought so. Joey wouldn't agree but then again, he lost more than her.

But Rose's mind wouldn't be changed.

"You should have some food, Rose." Grant told her, draping a warm thick towel over her shoulders and she pulled it tightly around herself. She hadn't realised she was shivering until now.

"Me an' Joey cooked up some hotdogs." He kept offering these little gestures like that one and they made Rose want to throw her arms around him because it was way more than mom or dad would ever do. Clearly, she was feeling grim and her parents would just ignore that or tell her to get over it.

"Alright, you've convinced me." Rose smiled when she decided to stop brooding and put her hand in her brother's, walking back with him to the fire and Joey sitting by it, sulking and swaddled in his too-big hoodie. 

She sat in the sand, legs crossed and accepted the hotdog Joey gave her, nodding her thanks. It was cooked perfectly, the open driftwood fire made everything smell warm and comfortable.

"Just so you know," Rose said before she took a mouthful. Family outings with no fits of rage were something she could really get used to.

"I love you fools." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you noticed with each kid born, the Wilson children get a little bit gayer? Grant's straight, Joey's bi, and Rose is a full-fledged lesbian here in this 'verse. Isn't that strange?


	8. A Father's Son

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *returns while eating half cooked noodles because student life*

Rose was enthusiastically telling her brothers about something when the siblings stepped back into the apartment doorway, fresh from their outing. Grant opened the door, pushing it back on its hinges, light from the hallway shining into the dreary interior.

Mid-sentence, Rose forgot what she was saying when she saw the carnage.

Every item of furniture was tipped. The wallpaper was torn. Glass things were smashed, shards scattered far and wide across the floor. It looked like a hurricane blew through here and destroyed everything.

"What the hell?" Rose said in a low, confused tone, brow furrowed as she tentatively went in. Joey followed, as shocked as she, and Grant came in last. His pale blue eyes were riveted wide, disbelieving of the state his home was in. Joey glanced at him and... He looked scared.

They were all stunned silent. No one knew what to say. What was there to say outside of the who did this and why?

Quietly, the carpeted floor swallowing up the sounds of his sneakers on it, Grant walked to a fallen display cabinet. He wasn't an ornament person but that didn't go for his girlfriend, all of her delicate china crap was sprayed out across the living room in pieces. The frail ornate wood of its frame was splintered, brittle glass doors shattered into little diamonds. 

Squinting, Joey tried to see what he did in the broken porcelain but there was nothing that stood out. He glanced around the apartment but they appeared to be the only ones here, no sign of who did this.

After a thousand-yard stare at the cabinet, Grant's gaze darted across the disarray, worried, tongue flitting over his bottom lip but not making the moisture stick. It was almost like he was looking for someone. With his hands, he fidgeted nervously, twisting his fingers back until it had to hurt. Except he forgot that in favour of tightening his hand around the weeping angel tattoo and the long puncture scar beneath it. It was as if it reminded him of something.

Joey knew he should be drawn in by the carnage laying at his feet but he was fixated by his older brother, he hadn't ever seen Grant like this. So anxious. Borderline scared. Joey almost asked if he was okay but when he remembered he couldn't, he tugged at his sister's sleeve and when she looked to him, he gestured to their sibling.

Rose frowned.

"Grant?" She moved closer to him and he almost jumped out of his skin when she laid her hand over his arm, she looked at him in confusion and Grant didn't explain; he broke away from his younger siblings and hurried to the nearest window. Grant was extremely on edge when he glanced out at the street, Joey saw even from this distance that his skin - gone two shades paler - was prickled with goosebumps. His shoulders were drawn into a tense line, jaw tight, knuckles turning white as his fingers were wrapped around the windowsill.

Was he... Was he looking for someone out there?

The curtains almost tore off the pole when Grant jerked them shut, walked fast back across the room and Joey and Rose waited for him to hurricane off out of sight but he didn't. With a whimpery exhale, he let his back slide down a wall and he fell into a slump, pulling at handfuls of his swept over bangs. It looked like it hurt. Grant's breathing was uneven, stumbling and... Panicky on a low note.

Joey and Rose exchanged a glance. There was a note among the shards of the glass coffee table, from Carol and it said she'd gone out and would be back soon, so at least they didn't have to find her murdered in the kitchen. Joey and Rose wouldn't mind but Grant didn't share the sentiment.

"Grant.... I'm gonna go call the cops." Rose said, unsure in a way that Joey rarely saw his confident, sure-of-herself sister in. He almost forgot someone broke in here, he was having a hard time overlooking this new state of being his brother showed.

"Can't trust the cops." Grant mumbled, knees drawn, face hidden by them and he yet held onto clumps of his hair. His voice was fractured around the edges as if his throat was constricting too tightly to talk.

"Don't call...  _Them_."

"But.... Someone broke in here. We don't know what they want, nothing looks stolen."

"Law enforcement in this city is fucking useless." Came the muttered response, more controlled than before but that was obviously him trying to keep the bout of anxiety from making his words tremble. He was subtly ripping strands of his hair out when he pulled his knees further in, completely drawing within himself. The mess of the wrecked apartment didn't compete with the mess Grant turned into at seeing it.

This reaction, it was extreme. It was worrisome.

Rose shut the front door, which had been left ajar, and beckoned Joey to follow her into the kitchen while their brother sat shivering in the corner, in a ball.

"Jo, I think I know who did this." She said when they were out of earshot, looking at Joey with grave sincerity mirrored by her severe tone.

' _Who_?'

"When I went to get my phone earlier, there was this guy standing outside in the hall. His name was Wade and he was really fucking creepy, I got a bad vibe from him. Jo, I'm sure he did this. Why else would he have been there?"

Joey frowned. That did sound rather suspicious and Rose was rarely wrong about people, but what could this Wade have wanted? It didn't look like anything was stolen, so not a regular B&E.

"We should call the cops." Little sister went on and she wasn't incorrect there, any smart person would dial 911 from here and have the officers of the NYPD take this.

' _Let Grant calm down first. Don't know why he doesn't like police but he'll see we gotta have them here when he's in the right mind again_.'

Rose nodded, chewing on her lip as she glanced in the direction of the living room.

"What do you think's wrong with him? I've never seen him like this. He's always so calm."

Joey surely didn't know. He was as confused as she was and he had a feeling they weren't getting to the bottom of it here and now. Grant never explained himself to a great extent, he wouldn't tell them why he freaked out like this.

Rose headed back to Grant, Joey tagged along and brother hadn't gone anywhere, still huddled around himself with his fists twisting in his hair. Tiny shivers made his shoulders tremble, his fingers were hooked into his temples. 

Without a word, Rose plunked herself beside him on the floor and locked her arm around his. Grant didn't react in any way other than not tearing his hair out quite so aggressively.  Approaching, Joey saw his brother's eyes were shut and lashes sticky with tears that ran the length of his cheeks, rolling down his chin in little beads. It looked like a panic attack if Joey ever saw one. But  _why_?

Quiet, Rose rested her head on Grant's shoulder and put her other arm about his, hugging the muscular limb to herself and drawing it away from him.

It probably wasn't helpful but Joey joined them on the floor and hesitantly, he took the hand his brother was tearing at himself with by the wrist and lowered it where it wasn't harmful. Grant didn't fight him on that and their forearms remained touching, more physical contact than they ever voluntarily shared.

He could feel Grant's shaking lessening slightly but it still transferred into him and unsure what to do, Joey's hopeless gaze fell to the smallest tattoo his sibling had; a four inch Leviathan cross on the inside of his wrist, right beneath the heel of his hand. Unlike all his others, which were expensive, artistic and 100% quality in both colour and design, the cross was nothing more than crude black ink lines forming the symbol. It was older than the rest, faded over the years. Maybe it was part of a gang initiation once upon a time, seeing as Joey didn't peg Grant for the Satanist type.

While Joey concentrated on that pointless thought, Rose hugged Grant around his middle and laid a gentle kiss onto his shoulder.

"It'll be okay."

* * *

 

It was bothering Joey, the way brother freaked out like that. Over what, a wrecked apartment? Sure, it was scary and all, that someone broke in but it's not like Grant was incapable of beating the shit out of any intruder. And yet he remained jittery for the whole day and all through that morning. Eventually, brother came to his senses, reluctantly let them dial 911 and the cops swung by. They took statements but since nothing was stolen, there wasn't a lot they could do. Wade didn't even come up, somehow. The officers really weren't that invested in this and gradually, the two younger siblings understood what Grant meant when he said police were useless.

But that wasn't what was on Joey's mind.

It seemed like it was particularly the broken china cabinet that scared Grant, all broken across the floor, and it made Joey's mind wander back to that night when he, dad, and Rose came back home and found the house in a state, mom as a mess and no sign of brother. What particularly stood out was the destroyed china cabinet, thrown onto the ground with blood dripping off the shards.

Dad demanded to know what happened, mom took him into another room to explain and the remaining siblings were lefts staring at each other in confusion, knowing something bad had happened. Their parents didn't tell them where Grant went and they were left to make their own assumptions. Joey convinced himself the idiot abandoned them, ran off because he didn't like them anymore.

Rose, on the other hand, had a conspiracy of her own.

_"I think mom killed him."_

She whispered to him one late evening when she snuck into his bedroom with a torch.

_"I think mom killed Grant and buried him out there in the woods."_

And Rose had genuinely believed that, no matter what Joey said in an attempt to convince her otherwise. She spent every waking second scouring the forest floor for a grave that didn't exist. She was going stir crazy before too long, and that was around the time dad decided she should occupy herself with something constructive. Martial arts and self-defence classes for a seven-year-old, what could be more Slade Wilson than that?

Rose was daddy's girl. Joey was his mother's precious baby. What did that make Grant? Well, mom always said he was his father's son. That comment often made Slade scowl.

"You're pretty good at that."

Joey looked up from plucking the strings of his guitar when someone spoke to him. Music class was over, he'd stayed after to get some extra practice in and  _think_ , and now someone was fucking  _talking_  to him.

From above him, a boy around his age was smiling down, soft brown eyes held his gaze. Joey hadn't heard him come in, get so close, and it was just the two of them in the deserted classroom.

The boy was mixed race, between Asian and Caucasian, making for a fair clear complexion that made his black hair seem out of place. He was wearing tattered jeans and a green sweatshirt with a safety pin as a zipper pull. His name might be Terrence, Joey had seen him in math, two rows down, and there was nothing about him that was remarkable enough to remember, except his attentiveness in class was terrible.

But Joseph hadn't observed him very particularly.

Ignoring him, Joey turned back to his guitar and didn't bother replying. This kid wouldn't know sign, there was no point even trying. Besides, Terrence was only here because he wanted something and that was probably to call Joey a fairy, faggot, and batty boy, or just to tell him to cut deeper. They were all like that at this school.

Amused, Terrence sighed and walked around him to kneel in front, where he again wormed his way into Joey's line of sight. He moved his hands and they weren't idle gestures he formed, Joey realised with surprise. They were  _words_.

 _'I_ ** _said_** _, you're pretty good at that_.'

The corners of his lips turned more as Joey's eyes widened. How did he know sign? No one here, most teachers included, were familiar.

"You self taught?" He switched back to spoken language and Joey hadn't paid him enough attention to notice earlier, but his voice was oddly deep, a few notes louder than most people conversed in on the daily, almost as if verbal communication wasn't his preferred language. Or even his first one.

' _How do you know sign_?' Joey asked instead of responding to the other question, he expected to piss Terrence off by continuing to ignore him but he didn't look bothered. If anything, he was happy to be acknowledged by Joey...  _why_?

Terrence gestured to his ear and shook his head... and he was still wearing that hospitable, friendly smile of his.

' _Can't hear. Being born deaf sucks but at least you learn a secret language, right_?' He joked it off so naturally, it was like it wasn't a big deal in the least, which is not the way Joey felt towards being mute, it pushed him deep into the depths of anhedonia. But being born with something like this just meant Terrence had had his whole life to get used to it.

' _If you can't hear.... how do you know I'm any good at playing?_ ' He gestured to the guitar, sat in his lap, fitting perfectly against him, not so much intrigued as he was confused by this person. This... this  _Terrence_.

"You looked like you knew what you were doing so I guessed." Terrence shrugged with his cockiest grin and while everything told him not to return the expression, Joey found a small smile flitting over his lips. He didn't know why and he knew he shouldn't, not when there was absolutely  _nothing_  amusing about this boy and his strange mannerism.

"I'm Terrence, by the way." He extended his hand and took Joey's without waiting for it, holding it instead of shaking.

' _I know_.' Joey mouthed, guessing this boy could read lips enough to understand. This boy who hadn't let go of him yet but maybe that was just another piece of his odd behaviour?

"In that case, it's only fair to reveal I know your name too. Joey, right? Joey Wilson?"

' _Who else would I be_?'

"True. I was lookin' for Joey Wilson, glad I didn't find someone else."

Looking for  _him_?  _Specifically_  him? Swiping a tongue over his bottom lip, Joey's gaze darted away nervously and he couldn't hide the pinkish glow that came over his face. He was suddenly critically aware that his hand was still in Terrence's, he wanted to pull it out but didn't.

During this, the green Ed Sheeran sweatband had hiked up his arm, Joey didn't notice it before Terrence glanced at his wrist, a brief frown knitting his brows closer together and Joey abruptly broke their connection. He did so with a jerk, faster than he meant, and he hastily hid the red cuts he could tell the other had seen.

And here it comes. The whole 'what the fuck's wrong with you' lines that everyone couldn't wait to get out their mouths when they saw his scars.

"Oh,  _cool_!" Terrence took his wrist before he could be stopped and closely examined.... His sweatband. He didn't pay the cuts any attention, acted like they weren't there which made no sense since  _surely_ , he did see them.

Joey was confused. Why didn't Terrence start asking questions and stare at him like a freak?

"You like Ed Sheeran? I can't really get into his music but I hear he's good. Maybe I just haven't got an  _ear_  for it." He winked in a way that was playful, looking Joey in the eyes at the same time as he tugged the sweatband back over the ladder rung cuts and scars. Joey wasn't sure what to think when Terrence let him go, only to roll up his own sleeves.

He didn't mean to stare, Joey really didn't when he knew how it felt, but he was transfixed by Terrence's arms. Not because they were muscular or attractive or anything, but because they were absolutely  _covered_  in the pink and white lines of aged self-harm wounds. Not just his wrists, but all the way up until they vanished into his sleeves. Some were very hard to see while others were so thick they had to have been reopened over and over. The marks were old, more than a year, at least, and no sign of a new one.

But that wasn't what Terrence was showing him. No, he removed a sweatband of his own and presented it to Joey.

"I got one like yours. It's not as nice, though." It was made of the softest cotton, adorned with bright and bold Pride colours. It was much too thin to hide a quarter of Terrence's cuts but then... Joey got the feeling that wasn't why Terrence wore it. It was as if he wasn't ashamed of those marks he put on his body.

Was that even possible?

' _It's.... nice_.' Joey signed with one hand for he didn't really know what else to say. He had too many questions. Inside, he was twisting and twining over not understanding this person.

"Yep. Got it last parade - New York has the  _best_  Pride. You ever been?"

Joey barely got to shake his head 'no' before the boy rambled on, enthusiastic.

"Oh, dude, we  _gotta_  go some time. It's great. No one stares, no one makes faces, it's just  _awesome_." It didn't sound like an invitation so much as it did a command. Joey wasn't sure what to think or how to respond.

Again, Terrence took his hand, turned it and stretched the Pride band enough to fit over. It went next to the Ed Sheeran one, covering those cuts that had spilt over its capacity. It made it all better, not seeing them.

Puzzled, Joey glanced to Terrence, in dire need of some explaining. Why was he doing any of this? Being a decent person? Talking to Joey? Paying him any attention at all outside of the cruel sort? What Grant said came back to him, that no one was to be trusted if they tried to earn that from you, but he quickly decided not to validate that. It wasn't the vibe he was getting from Terrence, although he didn't know what said vibe was.

Seeing his questions, on such obvious display on his features, Terrence graced him with yet another of his pearly smiles.

"Joey, don't give me that look. I'm just being friendly, no alternative motive."

_'No one is just nice. Not in my experience.'_

"No?" He cocked his head.

"Well, you'll have to get used to it, seeing as we're in a couple of classes together this term."

* * *

 

Rose and Joey walked home that afternoon, they wanted to give their brother a break from being their mother, if only for a couple of hours. He still didn't have his head entirely sorted out, Grant could use a day off. He was over exhausted and stressed so thin he would snap soon. Hopefully, he slept today.

Joey wanted him to be okay and that notion surprised him. But knowing Grant, the idiot had spent all day cleaning after the burglars.

"So, I saw Terrence Arianto was talking to you today." Rose casually slipped the boy's name into conversation while they walked down the hall, towards the apartment door.

Joey shrugged as a response, hands deep in his pockets, focusing on the path ahead.

"He's super cute.... And  _super_  single..." Rose's lips quirked with a sly smile when she nudged him in the ribs suggestively.

"And nice. And kind. And funny. And-"

' _Deaf?_ ' Joey signed, unamused. Rose was just tryna ship him with this kid because they both had a major loss of the five senses in common. The mute and the deaf boy, how fucking appropriate. Joey didn't need a pity case just because he was one.

"He's not just deaf, Joey. Just like you're not just aphonic. Ter has a lot more to him than what you think and he  _clearly_  likes you." 

Joey rolled his very green eyes with a huff of annoyance, extremely untaken by her outrageous suggestions. Sure, maybe Terrence wasn't just deaf but Joey also wasn't just single. He had his commitments, he had the people he loved, and unfortunately, Rose couldn't be in his nook concerning that.

When they went in, there were letters by the door, two of them, and Joey picked them up while Rose sauntered towards the living room. Quickly, he read what was written on the envelopes, the other wasn't of interest to him but when one said it was from the state, he immediately knew what was inside.

Custody papers.

A nervous tongue darted over his lips and he stuffed it into his backpack, between his chemistry and French books. With what happened yesterday, not for all the bitterness in him, Joey couldn't bring himself to present it to his brother at the moment. Grant would find out soon, very soon, but today was a bad time for it.  It scared Joey that his sibling lost it like that over the wrecked apartment, how cataclysmic would his outburst be in the face of inevitably losing custody?

Joey was completely sure Grant would hit him. Many times.

After all, Ish always made it a point to say Joey's brother was as unstable as his parents. If Grant truly was his father's son, then Joey should expect a very violent reaction.

But for today, he hid the envelope so he wouldn't have to see that reaction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Terbear, if only you only you had a canon last name so I could tag you. One day, if DC tells us what it is, I shall write it in place of Arianto.


	9. True Colours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one gets a bit rough so here's the disclaimer.

Grant awoke to a stifling pressure in his chest, like his ribs and every muscle surrounding them was trying to crush his heart to a paste. It was a dull aching burn, travelling in small currents up his neck and spiking through his shoulders like a buzz of electricity was sparking to life in him. It radiated in hot layers of pain, hitting every nerve ending until it numbed him.

Groaning, he rolled onto his side among the soft white covers and raised his hand to his face, biting down on the joint of his thumb. He focused on breathing past the pain, controlled shallow pants in through his mouth and out his nose, they usually alleviated the aching after a while.  _Usually_. He wasn't always so lucky. Either way, it was nothing serious, he knew what this was. Whenever his anxiety got out of control the way it did the other day, his precious heart condition decided why the fuck not join in and make his life misery?

It was fucking sore but that was all, not life-threatening.

"You okay, babe?" Carol asked when she took notice of him tossing. She was typing on her phone, sitting up against the headboard and not giving him any sort of visual contact.

"Fine." Grant half-lied to her past his set teeth, closing down tighter on his thumb until he tasted copper. Another wave of pain reached its peak and he held his breath for the duration of it.  _It'll pass. It'll pass_. He repeated that to himself the way he'd learned kept him from panicking. One heart failure later and any muscle spasms got worrying.

But this wasn't that. Just a symptom of the condition.

The sound of Carol's acrylic nails on the phone screen ceased, she glanced over at him with a frown.

"You're sure? You look terrible."

Grant bet he did, all pale and glistening with a cold sweat, wrapped up in crumpled unfresh sheets and duvets, but worst was the discomfort this morning brought with it.

Without him asking, Carol got up and out of bed, heading over to the en suite bathroom where the drug cabinet resided.

While she busied herself in there, Grant focused on a spot on the wall,  dull blank gaze nothing but a sliver of pale colour. He didn't want to get out of bed today. He didn't want to be a fucking parent today.

Just he didn't have a choice. _Thanks mom and dad._

Carol came back soon with his ACE inhibitors in one palm and ibuprofen in the other. 

"Take these." She instructed when she climbed back onto the bed with him and Grant propped himself up on his elbows. Nodding his thanks, he accepted the pills and swallowed them dry, wincing with the gulp but it was worth it when it'd help soon.

Grant gave a low groan as he laid back, licking his chapped lips. He'd been biting them again last night, making the flesh cracked and dry. He needed to start living normally. Seriously.  This wasn't healthy.

He must have forgotten he wasn't alone in the room because Carol's hand sliding over his left pectoral surprised him. He looked at her for the first time that dawn; as per the usual, she was scantily clad in white lace-trimmed shorts and one of his T-shirts. Her tawny mess of wavy hair, she fluffed it over her shoulders and climbed atop him.

"Carol, not right now." Grant could already tell what was on her mind and he wasn't feeling right for it. Even without the pangs of anxiety pain, he was too tired, just like most days recently.

"C'mon, babe, it'll make you feel better." She smiled sinfully, eyes glittering when she bit her lip to look seductive. Her fingers raked over his chest and trailed down the lean muscle of his stomach, tracing the swirls of ink stretching across his skin.  She had her sultry bedroom eyes on him.

"I said  _no_." He grit, a little more commanding but for good reason, her sitting on him didn't do a thing to lessen the pain she knew he was in. Carol didn't take things like anxiety or its symptoms very seriously. Not even when it was wrapped up with something like a heart condition.

Rolling her eyes, Carol gave an annoyed huff, getting off him with a jerk. She sat on her folded legs, on the bed and scowled at him. 

"You  _never_  put out anymore." She complained while Grant held the ceiling in a dark moody glare. He really wasn't in the frame of mind to fucking argue today, not about this.

"Ever since those fucking brats moved in, you turned into fucking Saint Chastity." 

"Carol, please, I don't wanna argue with you."

"You don't want to do  _anything_  anymore."

"Tell you what," Fuse burning low, Grant propped himself up on one arm, more than a little ticked off by the grating sound of her fucking voice. Couldn't she read the damn room enough not to bicker with him?

"You leave me the hell alone and you can screw any of the tens of men who'd  _love_  to have you." That was a bit far and he knew it, the words fell unbidden from his mouth, just he didn't have a tether on his tongue when a growing fire blossomed through the cavity of his chest and Carol wanted to be difficult. Most days, he took the good with the bad but he'd be lying if he said her bitchiness hadn't gone from one to one hundred since his siblings moved in.  He'd tried to be understanding but there was a fucking limit.

"Fuck you." Carol leered hot bloody murder at him when she got out of bed and went about getting hastily,  _angrily_  dressed. She pulled on some skinny jeans and peeled his shirt off, bunching it up in a ball and throwing it at him. Deftly, Grant caught it and set it down on the crumpled up bedspread.

He didn't give her a less relenting expression than she did him. He was a motherfucking  _Wilson_ , he knew how to glare back something fierce. Was it really wrong that he didn't want to have sex with his chest hurting like a bitch and anxiety already fucking him? And to boot, he was so damn tired his body was deciding what functions it could shut down to reserve energy.

He needed a fucking  _break_ , okay? Not from his brother and sister but the chaos revolving around all three of them. People needed to understand he wasn't some superhuman who could just give, give, give to his defective heart's content.

"You're getting unbearable, you know that?" Carol demanded when she was half-way out of the door with the strap of her bag carelessly tossed over her shoulder.

"You're acting like such a bitch nowadays."

"Oh,  _I'm_  the bitch?" He cocked a brow with his most sarcastic bordering on extremely vexed expression. 

"You realise you're throwing a hissy fit just cause I don't wanna fuck? I'm fucking  _tired_  and I'm  _sore_ , Carol." At this point, he'd gotten up as well and before he knew it, he and his girlfriend were facing off in a glaring match of epic proportions.

"So get rid of those damn brats." Angry, Carol gestured to the doorway as if the kids were hiding behind it.

"You're worn out because of  _them_. The state will take those things back if you say you don't want 'em." Oh wow, she really meant that. She actually surprised Grant with her blatant disdain for his siblings.

"I  _do_  want them." He bit back, terse, on his last nerve and she was pushing him into a dangerous mental state.

"They're my  _family_."

"Didn't you say you didn't want to be part of that fucked up bunch?"

"My parents are who I meant and you know that."

Carol tilted her head, eyes narrowing on him like she couldn't care less about what he just said. This was a strange day for them, he had this feeling neither one gave a fuck over what the other might say. Grant didn't want to fight but he wasn't known to turn one down and Carol was wedging herself under his skin so deep she approached marrow.

But she wasn't entirely wrong, though, their relationship had gotten rockier and rockier. Grant genuinely couldn't find the time to keep her pacified and be a  _responsible_ , semi-parental figure to his siblings. There wasn't enough of him.

"You're lucky I'm so fucking patient with you. And I didn't sign up to deal with those brats." Carol spat and then she shouldered by, deliberately hitting him as she did but he didn't flinch, she would have to do a lot more than nudge him if she wanted a reaction.

The door opened and Carol didn't bother closing it when she stormed off and soon, the front door could be heard slamming.

Grant sighed and ran his hands through his tousled hair. The throbbing in his chest was growing small beside the migraine that was as if someone was skull-fucking him. Really, he wouldn't mind if a comet hurtled into the Earth and burned them all alive.

And then his alarm ran. It was seven forty-five, time to get the kids ready for school.

He felt physically relieved when he came into the kitchen and found Joey and Rose already up, dressed with their backpacks sitting in chairs by the table. They were both by the full-length mirror, Joey lathering his throat with a stripe of anti-scarring cream while Rose pencilled liner around her eyes.

Warily glancing at them, Grant turned the coffee maker on despite his better judgement. His cardiologist would tell him caffeine was bad for him but dammit, he wasn't making it through today alive without it.

"Morning, brother," Rose mumbled drowsily into the hand she was stifling a loud yawn with, holding her liner pen between her fingers.

Grant frowned at her, immediately tuning into her lethargic state. Unlike normal people, his little sister was full of energy in the mornings, never drowsy, never tired. On top of that, her skin bore an unhealthy tinge of greying undertone. Her eyes, glassy and dreary, stared blankly at him, blinking slowly.

"You feeling well, Ro?" Grant asked, laying a hand over her forehead and flinching at the heat filling his palm.  Dammit, she was burning up. He  _knew_  he shouldn't have let her go swimming the other day.

Teaches him to doubt his maternal instincts.

"I'm fine." Rose maffled and finished by contradicting herself with a fit of dry coughs into her hands.  She bent over coughing and Joey gave her a concerned glance, Grant straightened her out and gave her a few pats between the shoulders, until she was breathing freely again.

"S... Sorry." Little sister groaned, leaning heavily on the arm he had around her. Grant could feel her dry pained breaths rattling in her lungs and it made his mind up.

"Alright. No school today. You're sick." This was not up for debate.

Swiftly, Grant scooped her up and she didn't object, she was too weak to do anything but slump into him.

"But I feel f... Fine." Rose blinked heavily, licking her dry lips and Grant wondered if she actually thought she was believable. She looked like death's thirteen-year-old manifestation.

"And yet you're staying home." A complete brick wall to her argument, Grant carried her into the living room barely fixed up after the break-in and laid her on the couch. He was well aware why Rose was insisting on her good health, she was daddy's baby girl, his favourite child, and that meant no such thing as  _weakness_  was allowed. 

Rose gave a small whine and curled around a pillow, hugging it to herself and making a sleepy noise.

"I'm gonna miss algebra..." She tiredly complained, eyes already falling shut to mirror her exhaustion.

Joey appeared behind, carrying Rose's MCR comforter from her bed, and he spread it over her. Rose had passed out before it had settled.

The brothers exchanged a glance.

"You're not feeling sick, are you, Jo?"

Joey shook his head and signed words Grant didn't understand, his expression must have given it away. Retrieving his phone from his pocket, Grant's little brother wrote a line into the text-to-speech app.

" _I'll walk to school. You should stay with Rose_."

Grant carded his hair through his fingers, exhaling quietly. The offer was tempting but the streets were dangerous, the break-in certainly did nought to ease his paranoia. When he saw the thrown display cabinet, Grant had actually been petrified for a moment that mom had returned from the grave to further torture him.

But that was before the haze of panic gave way to clear thought. That was ridiculous but it didn't change the fact that someone broke in while they were away.

"No, Jo. I'll drive you, it's fine."

For a heartbeat, Joey looked at him then returned his eyes to the phone screen, spelling out a new sentence.

" _No offence, but you look like you're gonna die soon if you don't take a nap or something.  I don't mind but Rose wouldn't like it. I'll just walk straight there and straight back. I'll be fine_."

Warily, Grant eyed him, weighing the options. He had to remind himself that Joey wasn't a little kid, he was fifteen and Grant had lived on the streets at his age, he needed to stop being such a fucking helicopter mom. 

Caving with a sigh, he reluctantly nodded and Joey went to get his backpack from the kitchen.

Again realising how damn drop dead tired he was, Grant sunk down onto the couch beside Rose and leaned into the cushions,  shutting his eyes for just a second but he only realised he was dropping off when he heard Joey go out.

With the subtle click of the door, Grant reopened his eyes but there was no point, Joey was gone, footsteps disappearing into the hall outside. Movement beside him stirred, a half-awake Rose crawled over and nestled into his side, he reflexively put his arm around her narrow shoulders. She breathed a comfortable puff of air.

Silent, the siblings fell into a heavy slumber, robbed dreamless by sheer exhaustion.

* * *

 

Again this morning, Joey intended to present the custody papers to his brother but then he heard him and Carol arguing, the bitch storming out and Grant looking ready to die at a stray breath.  Not to mention Rose was sick.

He couldn't do it then. Maybe later. Well, it had to be later since Grant could get into real trouble with the state if it seemed like he ignored the documents. Why did Joey care though? Hadn't it been his goal to make Grant's life a misery since they met? Joey made constant work of telling himself that the reason brother hadn't seen the papers yet was because there hadn't been an appropriate moment to give them to him.

The street was mostly empty, the road beside it too, so it really wasn't difficult to pick up on the sound of a lone car rolling up beside him on the sidewalk. Joey slowed his pace when he heard the window wind down, giving the driver a confused glance but then he smiled in delighted surprise. Not who he expected to see in any way, shape or form, but certainly not someone whose presence he'd ever object to.

"Morning, Joey." Ish greeted him, wearing his usual light smile that came so naturally his face would look off without it. What was he doing here? Maine was like, over six hours from New York. 

"You're going to school? Get in, I'll give you a lift." He gestured with his hand  to the passenger side and Joey nodded eagerly, wearing his happy smile and joined him in the car without a hesitant thought. All the hows and whys didn't really matter to him, he was just glad to be in Ish's company again. 

He tossed his backpack in the backseats and clicked his belt shut, looking expectantly to Ish with starry green in his eyes. The man ruffled his hair fondly as he returned the car to the road, away from the sidewalk. 

 _'What're you doing here?'_  Joey signed but the reason didn't really matter to him. He was elated just to have him in the city. It instantly made him stop stressing about how he was going to break the news to his brother.

"I'm here on some business, I decided to check in." He explained, concentrating his gaze on the road and to further Joey's surprise, he seemed to know the way to school. But it wasn't that strange, actually, Joey had given him Grant's address and he probably looked up schools in the district. 

"... And tell you the papers were supposed to be here yesterday, but you probably already know that." Ish broke his visual contact with the road and looked to Joey.

"How's your brother reacted?" Ahaa, so that's why he was  _really_  dropping by. He and Joey had both concluded that Grant wouldn't be happy in the least and that he'd probably get aggressive, but Joey did get the sense that Ish was actually hoping for a big angry outburst. It would further his case if it looked like brother had a bad temperament. Ish and his lawyer would say something like 'he's violent and unpredictable',  and that Grant was going to snap and beat the kids bloody.

Up until now, Joey hadn't really considered how much this thing would drag Grant through the dirt for all the officials and  _Rose_  to witness.

Joey looked to his hands, unsure how to feel about that. He wasn't enthusiastic for it, let's just say. A couple of weeks ago, he wouldn't have given a damn but even that morning, Grant had made it very clear he did care about his siblings,  for one or other reason. Joey couldn't deny that in seeing how he handled Rose. 

It confused him. Where should his loyalties lie, exactly? He didn't... he didn't want to hurt any of the people around him.

' _I.._.' Joey hesitantly moved his hand to motion to himself, pressing an index to his chest.

' _I have the papers but I haven't given them to him - yet_.'

By a notch, the tension in the car shifted.

"Why not?" Ish calmly asked but it came off as  _too_  calm. He adjusted his grip on the steering wheel, gaze hardening on the road ahead. The sudden irritable vibe radiating off him was a completely new one to Joey. Maybe he misheard the tone.

Still, he wanted to think his reasons were ones the man would understand as he always did.

_'Grant's really not in a good way right now. Someone broke in and wrecked his house. His girlfriend's fighting with him. I just wanted to let him get a bit better before-'_

"- That is so  _sweet_  of you, Joey," Ish cut him off, reading his gestures from the turned rearview mirror between them as he focused one eye on the road. He hadn't stopped sounding irritated.

"But this is a time sensitive matter.  _Very_  time sensitive. You need to give those to him now."

' _I know but I-_ '

"You're not acting like you actually want this, Joseph." 

Joey sighed, beside himself with the feeling of being a balloon people were stabbing needles into. He was trying to explain his choices but it didn't seem like it was getting through even a little. Ish wasn't listening to him. As most times when he was disregarded, it frustrated him but this was  _Ish_ , he pushed it down to where it didn't show.

' _I do._ ' The kid insisted, emphasising the latter word with a jerk of his hand. 

' _But I also don't want to hurt anyone. Rose is involved too, we don't know if the state lets her stay with Grant if he's painted out to be some monster.'_

"For god's sake, focus on  _us_  would you?" He came off as testy and Joey was having a hard time comprehending why this ticked the normally ever-lastingly patient man off this way. It was an inconvenience, yes, but not a big one that he couldn't rectify that afternoon if he so chose. 

A frown knit Joey's brows together when while the school building loomed in the distance, Ish slowed at an alley a few blocks from it and  reversed the car down without an explanation, looking over the backseats so as not to hit anything. And then he turned the engine off and the doors locked. The subtle click of the bolts sliding into place worried Joey, even when he fully trusted the man beside him. And a nervous chill crept down his spine nonetheless.

' _Ish... school. I have to get to math_.' Joey signed, confused as he gazed at Ish. The man always preached the importance of being on time to his lessons, so why were they here?

"Yeah, well you're going to be late." By his voice, Joey could tell Ish was still very agitated and whether or not his reasons were correct, Joey still wanted to justify his actions. He was going to try that, to say something when he heard the telltale clicks of Ish's belt buckle's brass pieces coming apart.

A nervous tongue dabbing across his bottom lip, Joey sent their surroundings rapid looks. They were out in public, in an alley, no less.  Did Ish really want to do this  _here_? What if someone saw? And what about school? Grant would be mad if he thought Joey skipped.

Eyeing the kid, Ish drew his dick out of his jeans and jerked his head toward Joey.

"Suck." He bluntly, curtly ordered, features dark with the weight of his annoyance.

' _Please, Ish, I don't wanna. I gotta get to school-'_

Ish smacked Joey across the face with the solid bony back of his hand. The kid gasped sharply when his head whipped to the side, a stinging red mark left on his jaw and his canines cut into the inside of his mouth.

Did.... Did Ish really just do that?

Confused, startled, Joey cupped his throbbing cheek and his gaze flitted back to Ish, who was so full of fury. The man never glared at him like that before, blackened by anger, and Joey blinked back the salty sting of tears pricking the corners of his big green eyes. A tang of blood filled his mouth, the corner of his lip split under the force of that blow.

"Didn't your parents teach you to do as you're told?"

A dribble of blood rolling down his chin, Joey's hands trembled when he tried to sign a reply, but Ish grabbed him roughly around the neck and dragged him forward before he could brace himself.

And then a dick was shoved into his mouth, it hit the back of his throat and went all the way down on the first go. Eyes flying wide, Joey tried to pull away but he couldn't, not with the steely grip keeping his head painfully in its place. He could only choke and splutter for breaths when Ish drove himself deep into his windpipe.

Fingers ran through Joey's hair and twisted hard, pulling out a number of strands. Joey flinched and gagged, the places inside his throat that were once held together with stitches  _burning_  under the friction of the pushes into him.

Frantically moving his hands, Joey signed 'stoppit' and 'no' and 'hurts', but Ish caught his wrist and pinned it to his back.

"Shut up." He spat, tone dark, and continued hurting him.

Up and down, up and down, Ish bobbed Joey's head to that harsh, thoughtless rhythm, controlling his movements and ignoring the constricting of Joey's muscles around him and the pained whines. Every bit of resistance was punished by a sharp yank of blond hair. 

There was no lust or passion to the act, no desire, only anger so great it terrified Joey. This... this was a  _punishment_.  And to confirm it,

"Don't think you don't  fucking deserve this, you brat. If you could talk I'd make you repeat it." The man growled from a dark and deadly place deep within himself. Joey tried to yank his arm free and Ish twisted it until it might pull apart from its socket. The spear of pain shot straight through his shoulder and that was his only attempt to free his limb.  

Beads of liquid rolled down Joey's face from over his lashline. If he didn't panic before then he certainly did when Ish kept his head down too long, until he started suffocating for real. Tears spilling, Joey choked and spluttered,  trying to use his hands to get  _it_  out, but Ish held onto his wrists and forced the kid's head down as far as he could.

And then as he was going to pass out, Ish let him up slightly but didn't take himself out of his mouth. Gaze darting, Joey panted panickily around him, drool sliding down the dick in thick streams.

"Just calm down, kitten. You're only hurting yourself. Be still and I'll let you go." Isherwood  _gently_  said, his voice contradicting everything he was doing. With the flat of his hand, he stroked slow lines along Joey, back and forth over his spine, not allowing him to rise even when he'd stopped bouncing his head.

Breathlessly, voice broken by the sobs, the kid whimpered with a shudder that shook him, nodding rapidly.

And sure enough, the moment he quit struggling so badly, the hand in his hair relented and Ish let him up  _finally_. He did it without finishing.

Gasping, Joey bolted as far from him as he could, until his back thudded into the locked car door. He quickly pulled his knees to himself, just to not have any part of him near Ish. What - what the hell just happened?

After that  _assault_ , his ribs strained painfully with the force of his panting, pins and needles pricking his numbing arm that Ish used as a grip.

But it didn't compare with the daggers of pain twisting in his throat. There was blood in his mouth, down his windpipe, he knew Ish had rubbed the inner scar tissue raw.  An accidental glance at himself in the mirror revealed how bruised and split his lips were, the teeth behind them pink. There was a purpling mark where he was struck, so obvious, so blatant, there was no way of hiding it. It looked  _horrible_. It felt worse.

Ish watched Joey's rapid breathing and winces indifferently as if everything was okay. He didn't even look at the tears, the droplets of red on the front of the kid's white hoodie, or really regard Joey for what he just did to him.

"You need to give Grant the papers." Ish calmly told him as he tucked himself back into his pants. He wasn't looking at Joey anymore. He spoke so reservedly, it was as if nothing at all happened.

"And you need to get to class."  

The door's locking mechanisms clicked when they opened. Fumbling, Joey found the handle behind his back and was all too eager to get out.  Maybe it was because he was scared or just experiencing some state of shock after  _that_ , but Joey stumbled into the alley without a follow-up word or any inclination whatsoever to linger in Ish's company. That was a first. He backed into the brick wall behind him and stared with wide teary eyes at the man in the car, another crimson pearl falling to stain the front of his hoodie.

The two meters of distance didn't feel that wide. 

Rolling the window down, Ish tossed his backpack to him and with no attempt from Joey to catch it, the thing hit the ground, books and the documents that caused this spilling out onto the damp pavement. 

"I'm not going back to Maine just yet, Joey, so fucking behave yourself and give those damn papers to your brother. You won't get off so easily if we have to have this conversation again." Ish told him, it sounded like a threat. No, it  _was_  a threat.

He restarted the car's engine, again didn't give Joey so much as a sideways glance, and at the press of the gas, the vehicle rolled out of the alleyway. Shaking, Joey stared after the car as it vanished around the corner, the worsening pace of his escalated breathing not reaching his ears. All he could focus on was that tone of voice Ish had given him before he left and while he - he was -

Only realising he lost his balance when he fell onto his knees, Joey didn't register the way the grit and gravel cut into him, it didn't hurt so bad even if he did. The thump-thump-thumping of his heart bruised his ribs as badly as the man did his jaw, the rapid beat of his pulse hurt his raw throat.

Whatever just happened, he didn't like it and that's the way Ish had intended it.  _Why_? Joey tried to rationalise it in his head, find enough reasons to justify it but when he couldn't, he crumbled more. Hands covering his face, he fell back against the wall and hid from the outer world as he curled around himself, knees against his chest as hard as he could pull them. 

It was quiet in the alley despite the uproar of New York noise surrounding, so quiet that Joey sought to keep it that way when a fresh wave of tears pushed up from beneath the undertow. He bit his already split and bruised lips further into a bloody mess, muffling the crying. 

But it was hardly any good, not for long. Soon, he was sobbing into his knees and almost every time he took a ragged breath, he was either coughing blood up or sucking it in. The scars in his throat had always been delicate, tender, Ish knew that full well, as he knew how easy tearing them was. 

So he did that on purpose. All of this, on  _purpose_.

Joey wanted nothing more than to have a razor blade in his pocket to numb this with, make it better, make it go away. It was the first place his mind went to as a next step. It was the only thing he could think of that would help. It always helped when something was doing him in this way. Maybe if there was a chunk of glass laying around or a sharp enough rock-

The scuffle of footsteps on the asphalt approached him, slowly to begin with, but they picked up quickly when the person was within view of him. Joey didn't bother to look up at who it was when their presence barely went noticed, and  he drew himself into a tighter ball in the hopes of just being left alone.

" _Joey?_ " The voice was one he knew but it didn't hit recognition, the person was on their knees beside him and their hands appeared as a solid weight on his shoulders. They gave him a small shake.

"Joey, c'mon, you're scaring me." Their fingers wormed their way into his safe haven and found his face, lifting his head from where he hid it. Nothing seemed less of a good idea than actually looking up, but Joey didn't have it in him to resist it or the concerned doe eyes that fixed on him.  _Terrence_ , he dully realised. What was he doing here? Maybe he walked this way to school...

Terrence's careful hands framed his face on either side, gaze darting over Joey in rising concern. He took in the blood and bruises, the blank fear and pain in teary green eyes, and the purple bangle of marks circling Joey's wrist.... who the hell did this? 

Whimpering, Joey pushed him away and Terrence let him do it, the last thing he wanted was to worsen this situation. The exact nature of what happened eluded him but he was deaf, not blind. He could see.

He had to call someone, that was crystal in its clarity. But who? Rose wasn't here or anywhere to be found but Terrence did recall the emo girl had mentioned an older brother acting as their guardian. 

"Joey, where's your phone?" Terrence was hoping and praying he had enough coherency about him to register the question and know the answer. Joey's whole arm shook from wrist to shoulder when he extended it and indicated to his fallen backpack with its contents carelessly strewn out across the alley. There were school books in the mess, as well as a manilla envelope that looked official but what interested Terrence was the phone laying among them.

He picked it up, worried it was broken when he saw the split running down the front but it turned on and he was faced with the lock screen, a four digit code between him and the contact list.

"What's your pin?" 

Face buried in his knees, not looking at him, Joey signed a quadruple of numbers. Four, four, seven, nine. Terrence typed it in and soon, scrolled through a list of names in contacts until one caught his eye. Grant. Didn't Rose say that was his name? Terrence clicked on it and the phone vibrated in the attempt to connect the call. He waited an anxious moment, licking his lips worriedly and glancing at Joey; he was still curled up in that tense ball, shivering either from the cold or the aftermath of what took place.

The phone stopped showing the calling screen and popped to the answer one that recorded the conversation and timed it. He guessed Joey's brother answered.

"Don't bother saying anything, I can't hear you." Terrence held it by his mouth, watching Joey despite how he hadn't changed his position.

"But I need you to come to Lorikeet street, the alley by the school. Someone hurt Joey. He's bleeding. Please hurry up." Terrence wished he knew if Joey's brother said anything, as he expected anyone would and he really hoped the message got through, he didn't want to find out he was talking to an answering machine. Not being able to hear rarely got on his nerves the way it did then.

Joey lifted his head and extended an unsteady hand to take the phone, Terrence gave it to him as his brother hadn't hung up yet. Joey held it to his ear, lips trembling in his effort not to cry more, which wasn't working so well, and by the way his eyes moved, he was listening to something. His brother was saying something. Joey stayed on the line with him despite not being able to actually say a word, the phone shook violently in his hand until he almost dropped it a few times.

While they waited, Terrence cleaned a drying streak of blood from Joey's bruised cheek on his sleeve, darkly pondering over who the fuck did this. A lot of people in New York would hurt a kid this way, the options were broad but by the depth of betrayal bleeding from Joey's eyes, he knew exactly who it was.

To say the least, Terrence wasn't expecting Joey's brother to be covered in gang tats and old knife scars, ripped the way an athlete was and panting as if he ran all the way there. Maybe he did, it was faster than braving the traffic. He was slightly out of breath when he appeared at the mouth of the alley, sweat glistening on his skin but none of it stopped him from jogging every last pace to Joey.

His unsettlingly pale blue eyes were wide with concern when he knelt carefully by his brother, his lips moved as he said something that Terrence couldn't read from this angle, and Joey looked up at him like he was the only person in the world who could help. Unexpectedly, Joey put his arms around Grant's neck and looks like Grant didn't see it coming either, his hands hesitantly landed on his brother's back.

"It's okay." He whispered and  _that_  Terrence did catch.

Nodding his thanks to Terrence, Grant's gaze drifted to manilla envelope stained by blood speckles then his eyes returned to Joey, pressed into his chest. By the way his features darkened, someone was dying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? The guy grooming the neighbour's kid so he can sleep with him isn't such a nice dude when things don't go his way? Who would've though? I shan't deprive you dudes any longer, our next chapter starts something like this,
> 
> \- "I'm going to kill Isherwood. I'm actually going to kill him." Grant muttered, working his hand around a balled fist as he planned it with hellishly dark eyes. - 
> 
> And that's all say about that.


	10. How To Get Away With...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found out what Carol's canon last name is... Sladky. What kind of a name is Sladky?

Joey told him. If it weren't for the papers Grant picked up and read, the mite probably wouldn't have but shit lot of good he could do to hide it now. So Joey told him everything about Ish, about their little custody scheme and one thing was crystal in its clarity.

"I'm going to kill Isherwood. I'm actually going to kill him." Grant muttered, working his hand around a balled fist as he planned it all out, his normally pale eyes gone hellishly dark.

"Fuck yeah, you are." Bette loudly stated, her voice going up in flames of anger, and from beneath the bar top, she took out the loaded glock. 

"And I'm going with you." She cocked the firearm. One might assume Grant wanted her to try to convince him against his conspiracy to commit a felony but he'd trusted she wouldn't. He didn't need to explain this to her, she got it, she was with him. 

"That son-of-a-bitch is ending up in the Hudson River by morning or I'm not East Coast Blood."

With grim certainty, Grant nodded. He might have left the gang but not all of the beliefs it upheld, and one that stuck out was the people who hurt kids, grown men who groomed and bedded children, they were to be taken out without hesitation.

Especially when it was someone Grant knew and once trusted. But Isherwood broke that courtesy into a thousand pieces with what he did to Joey. The idea filled his mouth with the bitter tang of bile, to imagine that fucking creep's hands all over his little brother. And then he  _hurt_  him, ignore the fact that Joey said  _no_ , and dared to try get custody as if he was actually fucking entitled to it.

And now Ish was dead. Nothing would save him. Not the law, not the past trust between them, not fucking  _god_.

Grant already knew how he was going to get away with it. Not that he wouldn't do it if he didn't.

 _Fuck_... his mind couldn't keep itself from wandering back to the old days, when he still lived with his parents, picking every memory and encounter with Ish apart with a fine-toothed comb, looking for warning signs he might have missed that he was some... Some sick pedo. Well, hebephile if they were being technical here, but when he was asked, Joey said it started a few months after Grant took his leave.

Oh, fucking hell. Thinking about it again, Grant lowered his face into his hands, digging his nails into his flesh. Joey was  _ten_. Eleven, at best. The poor kid didn't know any better. No one was there to protect him. And with the likes of Slade and Adeline for parents, he couldn't have been more susceptible to any small kindness. It was a lure Joey would have fallen head over heels for.

It was fucking sickening.

Involuntarily, Grant was over analysing all the times Ish was ever nice to him, which was often. He thought about the neighbour giving him a lift and cash when he needed to get away. Did he do so with an underlying motive? It made Grant sick to his stomach but for the first time, he regretted running away. If he'd stayed to take care of his siblings, he could have done something to stop Ish. Maybe the fucker wouldn't have targeted Joey at all.

"Oi, bitch, get up, your little brother's groomer needs a bullet."

Quite ready to stop thinking about the past, Grant pushed himself off the counter where his planning had been taking place. Beside where he'd sat was Joey's hoodie in a crumpled pile, wet from the rain that had begun to fall before they got in. It smudged the blood droplets and turned the white fabric pink in patches. Grant held onto the garment for a reason he didn't know, bunched up in his fists, and squeezed tighter every time the image of Joey's tear-filled eyes flashed through his mind. He couldn't shake the memory of his baby brother trembling violently in his arms.

Ish was dead. In the most violent way Grant knew, he was dead. And as a former... _persuader_  for the Bloods, violent ways to kill weren't alien to him.

Yeah, he'd sworn he was done with the life but this warranted an exception. But before he went out to make that exception, he waited for the kids to be asleep. Rose was wiped out by her cold and Joey eventually slept too, after enough Valium to calm him. The kid had been full-on panicking for hours after, it was rough to watch but strong motivation. Grant was certain they wouldn't wake up while he was gone, not with the melatonin he'd given the both of them, so he was free to take his time. He didn't have a clue where Carol was staying that night but she wasn't home, he couldn't care less despite knowing she was probably fucking someone.

He had more important things to focus on. If he was honest with himself, he felt better knowing she wasn't with the kids while he was away. 

"What are we thinking?" Bette asked as they made their way out the back.

"Colombian necktie? Blood eagle? Or call back to the old days and go straight to ravaging?" She suggested.  _Ravaging_ , not a word he'd heard for a while, not a method he'd needed to use since he left East Coast. It wasn't the most pleasant way to die, to say the least, but it used to be his trademark. Heck, some folks even nicknamed him after it. Dramatic but he never cared.  The only thing of relevance was if they took the ole ravaging method, it involved bones going in a lot of ways God never intended. Stripping the muscle off those bones with slow strokes of a smooth blade was an extra measure he was seriously considering.

Enough prolonged pain and that vital beating little organ in the chest shut down from shock. Heart failure, not a fun way to go, trust him.

It was perfect.

Grant could be one twisted, dark,  _vengeful_  person once his feathers were sufficiently ruffled and the knowledge of what Ish did had ripped those goddamn feathers from the roots.

"We'll see." Grant muttered, walking down a back alleyway with Bette at his side, striding with a purpose. It was good to have a friend who'd cover shifts for you as well as cover crimes.

"Grant, this rat bastard fucked your brother when he was  _ten_. That's basically rape. He slapped Joey about like a two dollar whore and forced a dick down his throat, subsequently rubbing his scars raw. Scars he  _knew_  were there. If you don't give this guy the worst you can, I'm gonna beat the shit out of both of you." Bette swore with a dark undertone, wrapping her fingers tighter around the handle of her glock. She meant what she said, Grant didn't have a doubt.  But she didn't have to worry, Ish had earned his worst.

"God, how did I miss it, Mary?" Grant dragged his hand through his hair, pulling out strands of it without feeling the burn of them leaving his scalp.

"Ish is such a fucking creep! How the fuck am I this blind? Joey's so secretive, he's always skulking around like he's scared of me finding out about something I'm not supposed to.  _Obviously_ , something's wrong."

"I think you're being a bit hard on yourself here, Grant. You've only seen that fucktard once as an adult and you had a lot of shit on your mind at the time." Her attempt to speak solid clear sense to him was a decent try but he couldn't stop kicking himself for failing to protect his little brother. His family. He really was his mother's son.

".... And in your defence, not even Uncle Slade realised the neighbour was a fucking sex offender. If he had, that dude would not be alive." True. The only person allowed to hurt his kids was the man himself.

"Dad only came home on special occasions." Grant thought she knew that. Slade wasn't present nearly enough to ever pick up on a thing going on under his roof. Fuck knows what he did all the time but whatever it was, it got him arrested. 

"Well, if it's any consolation," Bette began as they arrived at the hotel a friend from East Coast tracked Ish to. A quick lock picking Grant handled and they let themselves in through the back kitchen door.

"... You're a much better parent than Slade." Not really a compliment, taking how it took serious skill to be a worse father than Slade. Like, Hercules' twelve impossible labours level of skill.

"I'm doing the best I can." He quietly replied.

The kitchen was dark and empty, the waiters and cooks had vacated for the night. This place wasn't five-star enough to have room service 24/7. It wasn't a slum by any means but certainly aware of budgeting.

Upon entering, they scouted the place over quick, Bette concealed her gun in her fake Gucci purse and Grant buttoned the front of his suit, heavy with hidden weapons you could handily tuck beneath one of these things. Just cause he was primarily a tank tops and scruffy jeans kinda guy didn't mean he couldn't dress up for an occasion.

Bette once taught him the important trick of looking decent if you're about to commit a murder, anyone who might see you near the crime scene before it was one wouldn't cock a brow at respectable looking people. Survival of the fittest, best dressed and all that.

His partner in crime really did clean up nicely, Grant could hardly tell Bette was an ex-enforcer and now worked at a bar. The hot black halter dress and pinned up blond curls made her look like an elegant lady, the winged liner, smokey eye and dark grape gloss added the air of seduction the slow bats of her lashes drove all the way home. She was a natural at not looking like a murderer. Truly. 

"Come on, Wilson." Bette beckoned him and picking up the pace, he went after, through the deserted dining area and to the lit up hallway leading to the lobby. They had an unconventional way of entering but no-one noticed. This place didn't have top notch security cameras anywhere except the front door and probably the elevators and room floors' halls. The kitchen and dining room were untouched by some convenient design error.

The clerk noticed them coming and forced a professional smile anyone who knew physical language could see through. Bette slipped her arm through Grant's, smiling prettily and naturally as if she were a refined upper-class woman.

"Good evening, mademoiselle." Bette rested her spare hand on the desk, leaning on its edge lightly. Grant would admit, her fake French accent was impressive but it unsettled him. He didn't know why but French accents always turned his stomach to knots. But hey, everyone had their weird phobias.

"We have a rezervation for deaux." Bette gestured between herself and Grant with a finger. The clerk, she looked at them with a polite expression, impressed by whatever schmancy status she thought they stood in, happy to have them as her customers. Lord knows she wouldn't be able to look at them in their normal attire without turning her lip up in disgust.

"Name please?"

"Marie Lachapelle. L-A-C-H-A-P-E-L-L-E."

"One moment." The keyboard click-clacked as she typed, the search results popped up and she reached for a keycard hanging on the numbered board behind her.

"Room sixty-one."

"Zank you." Bette said when she graciously accepted it.

"Have a good night." The clerk wished them and the implication wasn't missed. She must think they were lovers sneaking around their partners' backs to bang it out in a hotel room. Wouldn't be the first time someone assumed that, Carol had a longtime conspiracy going where she was fully convinced Grant was having an affair with Bette on account of them spending time together regularly.

Whatever, she could think all the ridiculous things her cooky brain wanted. She was as crazy as a coconut with tits.

"So far, so good." Grant murmured as they left the clerk behind and headed for the elevator, armed with a keycard for a floor ten room.

"That was the easy part. Don't count your chicks yet." She tightened her fingers around his bicep, walking in stride with him, her five-inch heels clicking on the smooth wood floor.

"There are cameras on the elevator." She observed and Grant gave a low exhale, he knew what that meant. They couldn't be captured by one of those from the front, it made facial recognition a cinch. Not that it would come to IAFIS and cops, the plan wasn't to get caught or be suspected of anything. Caution and safe measures still weren't a bad idea.

"Let's just get it over with." Bette wasn't enthusiastic, he didn't blame her but murdering Ish was worth whatever it took. Sigh.

Grant grabbed her around her slender waist, pulling her to him and driving their mouths together. Immediately, her gloss stuck to him, he tried to ignore the strong berry taste and the weight of her arms snaking around his neck. She faked it to look good, backing them into the elevator in one frenzied smoochfest that kept them turning and swapping angles enough to only be seen by the camera from a sideways profile. This looked a heck of a lot more natural than them turning their faces idly.

Grant pulled the pins from her hair, her curls falling like a veil to conceal their faces even more.

Ten torturous floors later, the door pinged open, they all but stumbled out, intertwined in one another's arms, making out like they weren't fucking related -  _probably_  related. Cousins or something, assuming the Kane family Adeline hailed from was the same as Bette. Miss Cantrell didn't do a perfect job tracking down family after the car crash, there were members of the Wilson-Kane cult dotted around under rocks here and there.

Bette walked them backwards to the hotel room and with her spine to the door, lips crushed against his, she fumbled for the lock and swept the keycard through it, eager to get in and rigorously brush her teeth. There was no tongue.  _Never_  tongue. They could only put their discomfort aside for so far.

The hinges turned in, they staggered through as a mess of moving limbs and the second they were shut in, Grant and Bette broke apart with a wet pop and cringes of disgust.

"It doesn't get easier." Grant complained, wiping the gleaming purple gloss from his lips on the back of his hand while Bette popped a strip of gum from her purse.

"Just think about Joey." She urged, eager to forget that just happened. He accepted the gum she offered when he passed by, on his way to the window as he chewed on the xylitol, its cool peppermint flavour taking his mind off the grape taste of her lips.

"Mary, I am thinking about Joey." Grant replied, checking the locking system on the window frame. Single bolt, opened all the way. Good. Exactly what they needed.

Walking back, he unbuttoned the front of his suit and tossed the garment onto the bed, next beginning to roll his sleeves halfway up his forearms. God, he  _hated_  sleeves. They felt too tight around his biceps and shoulders. It was like being a shrink-wrapped portion of salted meat and no one understood the struggle.

Eyeing him, Bette removed her heels and put her hair up in a ponytail, where it wasn't hanging in her face. 

"We really gonna do this, cuz?" She asked. It was a trick question, she'd beat his ass if he said no.

"You ever known me not to off a paedophile?" 

"I know a lotta people who wouldn't."

"I'm not those people." Grant was trying to open the tie that was strangling him while they talked, trying and epically failing, the more he pulled at it, the tighter it closed around his throat. It was starting to frustrate him and seeing his struggles, Bette shook her head with an exhale.

"How can you not open a tie?" She scoffed, quickly undoing the knot on his behalf and pulling the whole wretched thing off from around his neck.

"It's difficult." He grumbled as she tossed that horrible creation of Satan onto the bed beside the rest of the fancy stuff they didn't need to be wearing to commit a murder.

"Your dad's an ex-military officer." Bette argued as if that was any case to win by.

"It's not like he was teachin' me how to tie those stupid things and iron shit to perfection."

"You  _can't_  even iron?" A blond brow rose slowly and Grant took that comment personally.

" _Excuse_  me, I have children now. Of course, I know how to  _iron_." He tipped his head up in a self-righteous manner, disbelieving she would actually think the art of laundromatting was one he was unfamiliar with. Pointless as their conversation must seem, this interaction was a call back to the old days when banter often took up their time before they did something the law wouldn't look kindly upon. 

"Then why do your shirts always look like a ball of crumbled up tinfoil?"

"Cause I'm a single parent with two kids and a full-time job. Do the math, Mary."

Humming, Bette shrugged and tucked a knife into her thigh holster, hidden by the hem of her skirt.

"You're an alarmingly stereotypical working mom."

"Tell me about it." He murmured as he ran his thumb along the blade of a thin dagger, the sharpness of it sailing with ease through the first layers of skin. It was in the same perfect condition as the last time he'd used it, which was admittedly quite a while ago. Fortunately, this wasn't something you could get rusty at.

Bette put a 'do not disturb' sign on the outside of the door and locked them in, free to get on with what had to be done.

"Let's do this shit." She clapped her hands together. He nodded.

Nimble the way most people didn't think a person of his build could be, Grant climbed out onto the window sill at a ten-foot drop, with his fingertips holding onto the subtle divots between the bricks to keep himself from falling.  He narrowed his eyes against the wind making them water, looking up; he only had to get one floor above. Easy.

He held the knife in his teeth, metal cold on his tongue.

A pillar of brick jutted out half an inch from the wall, by his right hand, and Grant wrapped his fingers around it, pulling himself up to the next grip he spotted at once. His biceps, triceps, all the ceps he had, they drew tight and tense as he clawed his way to the window overhead. He latched onto the sill and relied only on his arms to hold on.

Bette handled the next part; she used him as a ladder and settled onto his shoulders, taking the knife from his teeth and pushing it beneath the window. She was very careful not to scrape the wood or lock, expertly moving the blade to inch the bolt open. 

" _Yesss_ , bitch." Bette grinned when the lock clicked and she pushed the window open, quiet as the night when she slipped in.  Grant readily accepted the hand she offered him and not a moment later, they were both in the empty hotel room. They'd made sure Ish wasn't in before they put this whole thing into action.

It was necessary.

"Let's hurry up. I don't like leaving the kids alone for this long." Grant grumbled, heading across the room to the laptop he spied on the table.

"Sure thing, momma bear." Bette scoffed with a smile and eye roll. His paranoia over leaving his babies was  _amusing_  to her. It was honestly hard to comprehend how he'd turned into this helicopter mom over the course of almost two months. 

Grant opened the laptop and immediately, a lock screen faced him, demanding a password before it would give him access. His fingers hovered above the keys in thought. Hmm.... What would a gross pedo such as Isherwood have as a password?

An idea came to Grant and he spelt out a possibility. J-O-S-E-P-H.  _Joseph_. Denied. Okay then... J-O-E-Y. How's that? Ping. It swallowed the password up and asked him kindly to wait while it loaded. Grant felt sick that Ish thought about Joey enough to use his name like this. But then he felt angry.

The desktop was fairly empty, no more than a handful of folders and the empty recycling bin were there for him to see. Grant opened the browser and typed in a search, flights to Mexico leaving that night. A whole array sprang up and he took a moment going over his options while Bette went about her half of this in the background.  She was humming, nothing like a bit of music to lighten the mood.

He froze when the doorknob turned, Bette's attention snapped to it and they both scattered out of sight. She vanished into the bathroom while Grant didn't go so far, he pressed his back to the wall, behind the door when it opened halfway and the person he somehow despised more than his parents stepped in. Ish looked worn out and moody, perhaps the day hadn't gone so well after he sexually assaulted Joey.

It wasn't about to get any better. 

Once the door shut, Grant whistled to get the man's attention and boy did he; Ish spun around, face white with the extent he was frightened. Before he could make any noise that might alert outside attention, Grant hit him in the throat. The brass knuckles he'd smuggled in here in the suit, they left a pretty black mark and a choked noise as Ish stumbled back, hands wrapped around his trachea. Fun little tidbit he didn't yet know was that Grant just fractured his larynx, severely hardening speech and making noises in general.

Because Grant was going to  _drag_  this out. He needed all to be quiet and go unnoticed.

He punched Ish again, in the face this time, and knocked the man down. Probably broke his nose, blood gushed over his lips, the pathetic piece of shit dragged himself away as Grant slowly, tauntingly took his time approaching. 

Ish realised he wasn't able to talk, blindly searching his throat as if there was something there. His eyes, normally so bright and friendly, were wide and worried.

"Sucks not being able to talk, doesn't it?" Grant muttered darkly, rubbing his knuckles.

"And being the weaker one? Joey isn't even  _half_  as strong as you, you absolute fuck head." He grabbed Ish by the front of his shirt and pinned him to the wall, twisting his fist around the fabric until it was choking him. He applied force long after he heard Ish's ribs shift under the pressure.

"You  _really_  pissed me off, Isherwood." Grant growled through set teeth, half a foot between their faces.

"And you  _really_  shouldn't have put your eyes or fucking hands on my brother."

He heard Bette join them and she was toying with a knife.

" _Ish_ , huh? You know that's a euphemism for shit, don't you?" She asked, dragging the blade down his cheek, leaving a ribbon of blood as he winced.

"And I heard you hurt my little cousin? Forced your disgusting dick down his throat after he said  _no_?" Bette's voice became a threatening snarl, akin to a lioness protecting her cubs. 

".... Well, let's just leave it at I have something to say about that."

"Mary," Grant tipped his head like a predatory animal, holding Ish in his relentless, hate-filled glare. Ish knew he was done for, his scared eyes flitted back and forth between them.

"Go put a do not disturb sign on the door, will you? I don't want any  _interruptions_."

* * *

 

Rinsing the blood down the drain was a piece of murder cake. Getting rid of the body? Well, that wasn't much harder. With Bette's help, Grant dismembered the bastard when he was quite sure he'd gotten as close to getting even as he could, and they simply bagged the bloody limbs.

They lowered the trash bag out the window, onto the fire escape and went to pick it up when they went back out. They made sure to disgruntle their clothes a little and Bette smudged her makeup to make them look like people who were just here for sex. It took a special set of cousins who ever wanted to make the implication. The clerk at the desk, she certainly bought it, averting her eyes with a tiny knowing smile. Grant did notice her looking at Bette's ample chest and visually tracing her legs all the way to the hem of her dress.

After changing into their regular attire, Bette got rid of the car, drove it up to the airport, took the keys out and Grant dumped a suitcase full of stuff into the Hudson River, along with the corpse. She gave him a lift there and a hug before they parted ways.

"You're just protecting your family." Bette told him, he didn't say anything. He was grim, too deep in his own head. Grant wasn't a psychopath or a sadist, he wasn't laughing maniacally while he chopped up the corpse. He wondered if he was too emotionless regarding the whole thing. The shrink back at juvie said he was desensitised to violence, he'd argue he was just good at it. There was a distinct difference.

It was four AM when Grant walked home, thinking their crime over, looking for anything incriminating he may have missed. They cleaned the place up, no blood, no fingerprints. They left the car at the airport, got rid of some stuff to make it look like a hasty pack-up, and the flight planner Grant left open on the browser should make it look like Ish just skipped town. But Ish didn't have family or friends who'd notice his absence, it was possible no one would start asking questions. 

Grant intended on pretending he only saw the custody papers days after Ish vanished. If he didn't  _know_  about the case building against him, what motive did he have to do anything? But people wouldn't suspect foul play, not with how expertly it was covered up. The chance of cops showing up was close to nil.

Truthfully... Grant was disturbed with himself for knowing the ins and outs of this crime. The ease he did this all with.... Maybe he was as wrong in the head as mom always said.

When he got home, he went to check on his siblings and found them fast asleep in his and Carol's bedroom. Grant really didn't know why they were curled up amongst the covers in this room but he didn't mind, maybe they were waiting on him to return. So they did wake up at least once....

Keeping quiet, Grant went to put Joey's bloody hoodie in the washing machine in the futile hope of getting the stains out. He eyed the cycle spinning for a bit and the barrel filling with soapy water. It transfixed him.

After that, as the trance broke, he carefully laid down on the edge of his bed, not wanting to disturb his brother and sister. He tried to overlook the deltas of dried tear streaks down Joey's cheeks, the kid was curled around a pillow that was damp from being cried into. Rose's limp hand was loosely holding onto Joey's, her fine white hair splayed out across the bed. She had a bit of an idea about what happened and Rose was smart, she'd piece it all together soon.

Grant stared at the ceiling long through what remained of the night, thinking about what he did without a tinge of drowsiness despite the late hour.

If he hadn't done that, Ish would have certainly won custody of Joey and continued with his sick habits. If he hadn't done that, that piece of shit would have gotten away with all of it, unscathed. If he hadn't done that... He was no better than Adeline. He was going to protect his family, no matter what he had to do. No matter who he needed to kill.

Though Joey and Rose, they could never find out about this. They'd be afraid their caretaker was a psychopath or -  _worse_  - their parents.

But that's how to get away with murder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do wonder if anyone's actually surprised that Grant went through with his threat, let me know. btw, this fic's gonna be fairly lengthy, we still need to get to the bottom of Morel and Wade, which is a bit of a story, let me tell you.


	11. Retribution

Groggy, Rose sat up slowly in bed and blinked at her surroundings heavily. This... This was Grant's bedroom she was in. She didn't remember for what reason but it explained why she was sandwiched between her brothers, both asleep. 

In the fetal position, Joey was curled around a pillow while Grant lay on his back, a hand resting on his belly, his quiet breaths making his chest rise and fall lightly. She and Joey crashing here had pushed their older brother to the very edge of the bed, he had the bare minimum of space while they were splayed out leisurely. And still, he looked calm. Rose rarely saw that in him. But wait.... Was that a blood droplet on his shirt? She leaned closer to examine the dry red spot on the wide strap of his tank top, blatant against the white fabric. 

Yeah... that was definitely blood. Maybe he nicked himself shaving? Except she couldn't see a cut anywhere on his face, he was utterly void of marks that could explain the blood. Frowning, Rose carefully took his chin in her hand and turned his head from side to side, closely examining  but the discrepancy persisted. Her next thought was that perhaps a nosebleed was the culprit? She'd read everything there was to about his arrhythmia, that was a symptom of it and she laid her hand flat over the left of Grant's sternum. Rose gave a quiet sigh of relief when the rhythmic beat of his heart filled her palm through his muscle and ribs. It felt regular.  So he wasn't dead. That was always a good way to start the day.

Maybe she should stop over-analysing the blood drop and accept there was an explanation for it that didn't involve his demise.

Pulling her hand away, Rose turned her attention to Joey next. The large macular bruise marring his jaw made her scowl, her fingers curl around a fistful of the sheets, and that was before her vision traced the dark healing split on the corner of his lip and the manacle of finger marks left circling his wrist, its purpling a reminiscence of the force he was gripped by.

Rose was aware Grant came home really late. In the middle of the night, she'd gotten up to look for him in some fever dream but he'd not been in his room. Delirious from her illness, Rose had tried to stay up and wait for him to return but couldn't and Joey must've joined her somewhere thereafter. She had blurry fleeting recollections of Grant's weight being added carefully onto the edge of the bed somewhere early in the AMs, and she wondered if he'd gone out to find the person who hurt their brother. 

Unashamedly, Rose hoped Grant had put that man in a grave. Their family had lost enough already, some bastard from the outside wasn't allowed to try take even more. So in that sense, she did have an idea as to where that blood drop came from but the idea didn't unsettle her. If anything, it was a comfort. Her big brother would protect them without caring where the line was. Slade and Adeline could really take lessons from him in regards to that.

Speaking of, she wondered how long until dad let himself out of jail. He certainly wasn't going to serve all of his life-sentences, he'd have to be a born-again law-abiding citizen to do that.

"Sibling three-way?" 

Rose looked up. She hadn't heard Carol come in. She was standing by the door, regarding the three of them with scrutiny and her lip tugged up at the corner in repulsion. The first thing about her that stuck out to Rose was that her clothes were disgruntled, her makeup was a day old and the parts of her neck and chest that were on display was covered in circular marks. _Bitch_.

"You're disgusting." Rose muttered, removing the covers from over herself as she scootched out of bed, careful not to disturb her brothers and risk waking them. The idea of sleeping in sounded lovely but Carol ruined the atmosphere in which that could have happened. The siblings' peaceful sanctuary had been torn down by her intrusive presence. 

"And you reek of alcohol." Rose further let her know as she came to stand by Carol at the door, glaring hateful daggers up at her, which the bitch merely arched her brows at. They were too plucked, no longer baring a hint of a natural look.

"That's not alcohol, sweetheart, that's what sex smells like. Not that a little sapphic like you would know anything about that." 

Rose's glare turned twelve shades darker until her clear blue eyes were certainly almost black. She hated Carol. She hated Carol so fucking much. More than anyone or anything. 

"You don't care you're cheating on my brother?" She asked with calmness so forced the very least it came off as was disingenuous. Her hands closed into fists, fighting the urge to punch Carol in that whore mouth of hers and make her swallow her teeth. 

Deliberately laying her hand over her hip, Carol pursed her lips, eyeing Rose like she was the most distasteful thing to ever come into her radar. And that was impressive, considering all the drunks she probably screwed on a basis.

"I need someone who pays attention to me. After you brats came here and ruined everything, Grant doesn't prioritise me so _no_ , I don't care that I found someone who does."

"My brother is far too good for you, harlot." Rose tipped her chin up, she couldn't meet Carol at her line of sight but she sure as hell wasn't going to act like she wasn't able.

"He does _everything_ for everyone else. He's as selfless as humanly possible and you're just this stuck up bitch." She gestured to Carol, to all of her in her fit.

"I don't think you're in any position to tell me a thing about men. You've never slept with one, correct?"

"I'm _thirteen_."

"That's not the point." Carol tipped her head as she observed Rose through narrowed eyes.

"Until you get a dick stuffed into you, shut up. You don't understand the importance of intimacy in a relationship, it's not my fault what I do when I don't get it."

Rose's features scrunched up in pure disgust. How could one person be so repulsive? This bitch made her stomach churn until she was at risk of throwing up.

"Get the _fuck_ away from my family. We don't need trash like you."

"You and the mute are the intruders here, not _me_." Carol grit. At her side, her hand trembled and Rose briefly wondered if she intended to hit her. Let her fucking try, Rose bet she could whack back so much harder.

Except she never got to know what the woman intended.

"Fuck's sake, Carol, leave her alone." Grant had woken up without them realising, though with their angry back-and-forth, it wasn't surprising. He was sitting up in bed, the strands of his hair in utter disarray and the black circles around his eyes had never seemed more prominent. They made the pale colour of his narrowed eyes look even lighter.

"She's a _child_." He got up, covered Joey with a blanket, and crossed the distance to them, standing beside Rose. Her head barely reached his shoulder. Rose couldn't deny, her brother coming to side with her over Carol made her want to puff her chest out. Judging by her face, Carol was _pissed_. Her brow screwed up, eyes widening as they hardened.

"Would you _stop_ fucking always picking them over me?"

"Give me _one_ reason to pick you. _One_." His jaw was tight as he spoke, Rose felt the way his muscles tensed and she wondered what he would do. With Carol, sanity and mania constantly fought for real estate in her brain, Rose really didn't find it surprising that Grant made himself look threatening in an argument.  It was probably the only way he could ensure she wouldn't get physical.

"How about I'm your _girlfriend_?"

Grant surveyed the marks on Carol's neck and collarbones, raising a brow. He didn't look as bothered by the hickeys as one would expect.

"About that... Carol, this whole thing we got kinda isn't working any more. Maybe we should... _y'know_."

"Are... are you seriously breaking up with me?" Carol's glare faded to reveal a gape, her lips were parted in sheer surprise at this turn of events. Men must rarely spring this on her, seeing as what a _catch_ she was. 

"Well, you see," he shrugged, "I wanna focus on my family and I get that they're not what you signed up for, so I think it's just best if we pursue what's important to us. I have little orphans to raise and you..." His gaze crossed her slowly and the silent judgement wasn't missed.

"I guess you have other guys to... uhm, _entertain_?"

Her fists opened and closed, acrylic nails leaving crescent marks on her palms. She was angrier than Rose would have expected, considering how this was not a true-love relationship she and Grant had. Not in any sense of the words. Perhaps it was more tied to the fact that she always broke things off, not the other way around. 

"I can't believe you." She muttered. Rose worried she was going to hit someone with the cold fury this all brought about. Not that a slap wouldn't be worth it if it meant getting rid of this bitch for good.

"I can't believe it's my name on the lease." 

Her eyes narrowed to a dangerously dark colour, fists opening and closing. Rose moved closer to her brother's side, putting her arm through his. Grant wasn't phased by this show Carol was putting on, not phased at all, he must be used to her over-the-top theatrics at this point. 

"All the best, Carol." Grant went by her and with her fingers around his forearm, Rose gave the bitch a passing smirk and poked her tongue out. Childish, she would admit but she was happy, alright? Fight her. _Finally_ they could be rid of that witch.

"And leave Joey alone." Brother added before they swept out of the room and left Carol to remove her presence from _their_ home, which she would do once she got over the shock of it. Really, she should be happy, she didn't like the kids and Rose was only fifteen percent sure she had any small attachment to Grant at all.  

Now, Rose could easily destroy Carol, once and for all, all by the simple act of uploading some choice videos onto the internet. Like that clip where she told Joey to slit his wrists as well as a few other gems. And her online following surely wouldn't stand for her bullshit.

But Rose was willing to leave it here. No point firing off weapons when the war was won in her favour

"You're the best, you know." Rose abruptly squeezed Grant around the waist on their way to the kitchen. He almost fell over her but she only tightened her embrace, burying the side of her face against his collarbone.

"Uhm, _thanks_?" Confused, Grant patted her on the head awkwardly, unsure what to do with the information she presented. In the span of 24 hours, it was very possible brother killed the person who put their hands on Joey _and_ he got rid of that big-boobed witch. This was the start to the best day ever.

Letting Grant go, Rose became his shadow on his way to the kitchen and before long, Joey joined them, groggy and burritoed in the thin fleece comforter off their brother's bed. With an anxious look, Grant pulled a chair by the table and shepherded Joey to it.

It didn't go missed by Rose that their dynamic had changed. Grant was doing the same thing he always did; _trying_ while Joey didn't slap his hands away when he briefly put them on his shoulders. Maybe he was still in shock after yesterday.... Or could he have finally accepted that Grant loved and cared for him?

"Lemme get you some water, Jo." Grant, taking notice of Joey's painful dry swallows, went to fill up a glass with water at the tap. It was warm, he tested the temperature on his fingers before he filled the glass. After that, he stirred a spoonful of honey in. It would help with Joey's raw throat, which Rose didn't even want to picture how he tore the scars in his oesophagus.

Nodding a silent thanks, Joey accepted the glass in both hands, taking a tentative little sip. He winced sharply and coughed into his fist.

Grant adopted a more anxious expression than before, glancing to Rose.

"Ro, can you go grab some ibuprofen from the medicine cabinet?"

She bobbed her head, turning swiftly on her heel to fetch it. The drugs were kept in the bathroom connected to Grant's bedroom - _formerly_ Carol's also. Despite Joey's poor state, Rose smirked to herself. God, she was happy to be rid of that bitch. No more verbal lashings and belittlement the moment big brother stepped out of earshot.

When Rose entered the bathroom, she wasn't all that surprised that Carol wasn't gone yet but what did take her aback, what made her scowl grow deep, was the fact that the bitch had an orange pill bottle in her hand. She wasn't aware of Rose watching, if she had been, she may not have poured the contents of the bottle down the drain. It was Quinapril, the ACE inhibitor of Grant's.

"What are you doing?" Rose coolly asked although she could see all she needed to understand. Vicious anger stirred within her when her eyes landed on the sheet of medicine in Carol's other hand, that she no doubt planned on replacing the Quinapril with.

Slowly, Carol placed her fists on the bathroom counter, tightly gripping the orange bottle until it shook.

"Posie, get the _fuck_ out." She growled. She wasn't facing Rose and her long hair fell like a veil to disguise her expression on both sides. Her voice was so angry, the way mom used to sound before a big explosive fight with dad.

"You're really trying to _poison_ my brother now? You haven't done enough?"

"I said _get out_." Carol turned to face Rose and a heavy sense of malice shifted fully into her direction. Her mascara was running from angry tears and a furious scowl twisted her carefully polished features. Her eyes were a terrifying shade of black that Rose may have feared, if she feared  anyone.

"I'm not going anywhere." Rose calmly stated, unintimidated by Carol looming above her.

"I live here. You don't."

Carol's fingers opened and closed methodically, eyes narrowing and without a blink of warning, she swung her hand at Rose. Her dad was fucking _Slade Wilson_ , you'd have to be an idiot to assume Rose could be slapped like that. She moved back from harm's way and dealt Carol a well-deservig punch to the face. Damn, that was satisfying. The smack of knuckles-on-flesh was as beautiful as a piece by Mozart.

While Carol stumbled back, Rose retrieved the sheet of pills and took her time leaving the bathroom. She padded down the hall and returned into the kitchen, where her brothers were.

"Grant, I think you should call your cardiologist. Carol just got rid of all your meds." Rose calmly let him know as she sat by the kitchen table, taking her phone from her pocket and opening up Instagram.

She was semi-aware that Grant said something and marched off to throw Carol out, and Joey was looking at Rose questioningly. Rose didn't pay him any attention, she was too busy tagging Carol and posting the videos she'd secretly filmed. That video of her telling Joey to kill himself, several instances of verbally abusing him with the punchline of muteness, and other incriminating things Rose had stowed away for later use.

She tagged larger influencers too, specifically the ones Carol was associated with, all with the intention of ruining that bitch. No one half decent would stand for this. And Carol could have gotten away...

With the post uploading, Rose leaned back in her chair and gave the sheet of drugs an examinatory eyeing. Candesartan.... A receptor blocker that would have catastrophic side effects when combined with Quinapril. It could cause major heart failure, impressive really that Carol knew that. Where did she even get it?

Rose's phone started buzzing violently with notifications of outraged comments regarding Carol's behaviour. She muted it, not bothering to read more than two. The internet had done its duty.

When Grant came back, he was talking to someone on the phone, repeatedly referring to them  'Doctor Sarzac'. She did hope he could get a repeat prescription, he needed that medicine Carol threw away. When he hung up, he dialled someone else right away.

"Hey. I need you to come over and watch the kids.... I'll explain later. I gotta go see my doctor... Long story. Yeah, yeah - I just said I'll tell you later. Whatever, just hurry up and get here. 'Kay. Bye." He hung up a second time and ran his hand through his hair with a quiet exhale. Rose sometimes wondered how his stress levels would look on a chart.

' _Who was that_?' Joey moved his fingers to ask and Grant stared at him, perplexed.

"He asked who that was." Rose translated. Seriously, brother needed to learn sign already.

"Oh... My doctor. I gotta go see him, he'll give me a new prescription so I don't die. And... friend of mine's coming over to watch you two. I got rid of Carol, she's not coming back-"

"What friend?" Rose cut him off. He was talking a bit too fast for her liking.

"Uh..." He rubbed the back of his tattooed neck, hesitant to answer. Rose and Joey both frowned.

"... Our... Our cousin... Mary."

"C - _cousin_?" She gave a confused tilt of her head while Joey blatantly gaped. Rose had no idea they had any family, much less living in the same city.... _dammit, Grant_.

They asked him a barrage of questions relating to their mysterious cousin he'd neglected to mention and he reluctantly replied, but there was a knock at the door before they could thoroughly interrogate him.

Grant let a woman in. She was tall, blond and of an athletic build. She carried herself with confidence that was tough to beat and enticing to both sexes for sure. She had pure pastel green eyes, green eyes like mom and Joey. Rose could see the resemblance. The _family_ resemblance.

"Hey, Rose." Mary smiled and offered her hand to Rose, surprising the girl as it was rare that an adult regarded her at all, especially with respect.

"Hi... Mary." Rose hesitantly accepted her hand but she regained her confidence quickly, taking to the warm kind vibe coming off the woman.

" _Bette_. I like Bette. It's only this idiot who calls me Mary." Smirking, Mar - _Bette_ elbowed Grant tauntingly in the ribs and he rolled his eyes, looking away with his arms folded.

Rose sensed Joey lingering in the background, awkwardly hanging by in a way that he clearly wanted to join them but wasn't sure how. Bette noticed him too and she smiled.

' _You gonna come over here and say hi_?' She knew sign. That was surprising. But she appeared fluent and it instantly made Joey warm up to her. He crept over with a small wave.

Bette turned to Grant and all but shoved him out of the door, stronger than Rose would have expected.

"Get lost, Grant. Us blonds are gonna spend the day, no brunets allowed."

Joey and Rose exchanged a glance, both optimistically uncertain about Bette. But if she'd somehow gotten herself into Grant's circle, then she was trustable. No doubt.

"Don't break anything." Grant told Bette and she winked with a crooked grin.

"No promises, doll."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We don't stan Carol. We stan Bette.


	12. Exclusion

It looked like it would rain soon but Bette felt safe they had at least an hour of good weather before the clouds broke water. Inhaling the crisp fresh air warning of the storm, she walked along the paved path winding through Central Park, heavy grey mantles hanging forebodingly over the trees, sparse with yellowing leaves.

She took the kids with, that damn apartment got depressing after a while, and they went for a stroll. Maybe being outside would get their minds off recent incidents? Well, Rose seemed alright, she always did, but _Joey_ was concerning Bette.

It was understandable that he was withdrawn, given what transpired between him and Ish was nothing short of traumatising, but it didn't make it less worrying.

From the corner of her eye, Bette had secretly been watching Joey since they left the apartment. He wasn't wearing his favourite white hoodie anymore despite that Grant had gotten the blood stains out. Bette saw Joey shove the garment into the kitchen trashcan as if it had personally assaulted him.

So now, he was wearing a baggy dark grey hoodie several sizes too big for him. It might actually be Grant's. Joey had his hands dug into the pockets, hood drawn over his waves of blond hair, slumped over. He was walking a stride or two behind Rose and Bette, watching the floor with a look in his pure green eyes that looked like he might tear up at any moment. If he was thinking about Ish's hand around his throat and dick forced into him, then being upset was justified.

"Ro," Bette said to her little cousin and immediately caught her attention. Rose whipped her head around to Bette, alert at the speed she had only ever seen Uncle Slade pull off.

"Can you go grab us some ice cream?" Bette gestured to the ice cream van parked a small distance away.

"Okay." Rose nodded with a glance towards it. "What flavour?"

"Vanilla. Here," Bette gave her a twenty dollar bill from the back of her pocket. The girl accepted it and headed away.

Bette turned to Joey when they were alone. She didn't say anything, just started towards the wooden bench on the side of the path, gesturing over her shoulder for Joey to follow. Sceptical, he did, small stones crunching beneath his sneakers.

With an exhale, Bette sat and rested both her arms over the backrest. Joey hesitantly accepted her invitation to join her, sitting on the edge of the chair, as far from her as he could. Bette wasn't clued out of Joey being uncomfortable with her,  or at least on his guard, which reminded her of Auntie Adeline. As violent and angry as that woman was, she tended to carry herself like a small frightened animal around new people.

"What's up, Seph?"

Joey shrugged as if nothing was the matter. He tightened his arms around his slender body, staring off at nothing.

Seeing he wanted to keep it all in, Bette gave a small sigh, turning her gaze in the direction he was looking in.

"Listen, kiddo, your brother told me about what happened.... With that man." She glanced at him in her peripheral to spot his reaction and Joey visibly tensed, drawing an inch deeper within himself, his fingers closing around his upper arms.

"He won't hurt you again." She went on, voice serious yet gentle at once. Joey sat in silence for a few moments, then uncrossed his arms, signing a few words.

' _Wasn't supposed to happen_.'

Bette's sympathies shifted deeper at his hopelessness.

"The whole thing wasn't supposed to happen."

Lowering his head into the cradle of his hands, Joey nodded rapidly. He knew it wasn't supposed to happen. Bette got the sense that the whole thing, this twisted relationship, formed faster than Joey could wrap his head around and it went completely out of his control, so he went along with it.

Bette put her arm around his shoulders and pulled him into her side. She rested her head on his.

* * *

 

Rose was coming back with the ice cream cousin wanted when she noticed Bette holding Joey under her arm, and she stopped in her steps. Oh. They were having a private moment apparently....

She shouldn't go bother them.

Disheartened, Rose lowered her gaze to the ground. She'd actually wanted to spend a little time detached from the problems circling in an axis around them, as she guessed her brother and cousin were discussing the events of the other day.

But it was okay.

Realising she'd been deliberately sent away, Rose dropped the ice cream into the trash, Bette didn't _really_ want it, and she started down the path in another direction. Maybe she would take a little walk while they spoke. They wanted their privacy. Clearly, it wasn't a conversation she should be apart of.

Rose wouldn't lie to herself, she was feeling a little excluded from the rest of her family. She knew Joey was more important right now, but it was like that before the incident too. Grant poured all his attention into their brother and since she was well behaved and obedient, she tended to be overlooked.

Out of Bette's view, Rose sat at the foot of a tree and pulled her knees to her chest, hiding her face in them. She didn't think it was possible, but Rose missed dad. At least he was aware she existed. Where she was concerned, Grant had this 'thank God you're behaving, please be quiet and get ready for school while I spend hours tending to your brother and his angst'.

She missed going out with dad to new interesting places, where he only took _her_ , not Joey or Adelaine.  It was Slade, he didn't talk much to her or discard the serious face when they were out, but it was their _thing_. They'd drive somewhere when Adeline got particularly grating or just no reason at all, Slade would buy Rose food, and then they'd awkwardly spin conversation. It was nice but he usually had to dash off without notice when he got a message about a mission, cutting their playdates short but the intention of it was there. He was a military officer, it was an important job, she understood the mission first mindset.

Right now, Rose wished the damn idiot hadn't gotten arrested. Don't get her wrong, Grant was a great substitute guardian, arguably much better, but... He wasn't her father. He was just a stand-in. She got that her eldest brother's time was stretched thin as it was but... Y'know.

When Rose raised her face from her knees, she realised her jeans were damp there and her cheeks too. Her eyes felt puffy and lashes sticky.  She was crying softly without noticing it. Gaze downtrodden, she unhappily licked her bitten lips and shifted her legs, hands balled on them.

Joey was upset over mom, they were very close and she loved him unconditionally. Grant found it a monumentally celebratory occurrence that their parents were out of the picture. But Rose... Why did she miss Slade? He was so awful to do this to them. He got into trouble, got arrested, and then mom snapped and tried to kill her and Joey.

This was his fault and she still missed him.

"Need a 'kerchief?" A man appearing above her said. Alarmed, Rose's vision darted to him, the person offering her a white piece of paper towel between his middle and index fingers. She recognised him at once and with a start. _Wade_ , the creepy guy from the hall.

"Such a pretty face shouldn't be all teary." Wade went on and another man came up beside him, both effectively cornering Rose with the tree to her back. She rapidly scrambled to her feet but couldn't get past them.

The other person was older looking, mid-fifties with grey in his dark hair, and he was frighteningly tall.

Worried, Rose's gaze darted between them, a nervous tongue swiping her lips.  Hand tightening around her upper arm, she took a step back when that gross shit Wade came closer.

He chuckled.

"Don't be scared of me, little girl. It's just your Uncle Wade."

" _LaFarge_." The other grit, elbowing Wade in the ribs. His voice was thick with a French accent that turned his th's to z's.

"Ze way you introduce yourself to everyone has proven problematic in ze past. _Stop_." 

Glancing around herself at the empty wooded area of the park, Rose took some healthy and distrustful steps away from the men, back hitting the tree trunk. The moment her shoe broke a small stick, their heads and collective attention snapped back to her. While the Frenchman's expression was hard and unchanging, Wade's face split into a sharp-toothed grin that would scare any monster.

"I said you don't gotta be afraid of us. Me an' my buddy Morel just wanna ask you some questions, that's all." Wade approached menacingly and just as Rose was about to bolt, the Frenchman's hand lurched forward and snatched her forearm.

Muffled by Morel's hand clamping over her mouth, Rose yelped when they started dragging her into a direction of their choosing against her struggles. Just one of them alone was stronger than her but both combined? It was hopeless for Rose to even try to escape.

But that very evident fact didn't keep Rose from squirming to break Morel's grip, the man gave an annoyed grunt when he heaved the girl up as easily into his arms as Grant could, tightening a limb around her middle until Rose couldn't breathe against it. She kicked and bucked, trying to scream past his hand.

In all the commotion, a flash of something on the inside of Morel's wrist darted into view, a familiar black pattern inked into his skin.

_A Leviathan cross._

Like the matching one Grant had. What the _actual_ fuck? Why did they have the same tattoo?

Before Rose could double check he'd seen it right, Morel dropped her by a parked car, hidden among the trees, shoving her into its side. And lo, the symbol disappeared into his sleeve.

Wade opened the back door, they pushed her in and he came after while Morel took to the driver's seat. Rose kicked at the bastard Wade, kicked as far from him as she could until she hit the door. Frantically, she groped it blindly for the handle but was dismayed to find it was locked.

Laughing at her efforts, Wade lunged to pin her while Morel floored it from the park, tyres screeching.

"Get off me! Let me go!" Rose kneed him, tried to break his grip the way dad taught her but her hits were bouncing off. Dammit, he was stronger under that trenchcoat then he looked, Rose was striking unflinching muscle. Wade forced her into the seats, his weight crushing her until she couldn't speak or cry out. Her breathing fasted to near hyperventilation.

"Bucks like her momma, eh, Jackie?" Wade winked at his companion, smirking sneakily. What the hell did he mean? Rose didn't understand. She really didn't understand. She only knew she was in deep shit.

"Shut up, LaFarge." Morel snapped, irritated by Wade's constant chatter. He briefly turned his attention from the road to Rose, glancing at her, and his glare bore the weight of bricks. His eyes... there was something that Rose recognised in them, something distantly familiar yet entirely alien. She couldn't place what she saw.

"Homeward ho!"

* * *

 

Hmm. Rose had been gone for quite a while and Joey was concerned, so was Bette. They started looking for her at a reasonable pace but were both speed-walking when halfway through the park, there was no sign of her.

"Rose! Rose, where are you?"  Bette anxiously called, hands cupped around her mouth. People were looking at them with frowns and confusion, but no offer to help or inquiry as to what was wrong. They just didn't care that his little sister was missing.

"Rose!"

By now, Joey jogged to keep up with his cousin's long-legged strides. With every step that didn't lead them into view of Rose, his chest tightened and he grew more afraid. Grant warned him New York was dangerous, what if - what if -

A big hand caught Joey's arm, stopped him in his tracks, and he spun around in alarm to see who grabbed him. Bette got ready to punch the person's face through their skull but... Joey nearly choked on a word he couldn't say.

_Dad?!_

"Uncle Slade!" Bette exclaimed, utterly stunned and Joey was too, when the terrifying man responsible for the kid's existence suddenly loomed over them. He was supposed to be locked up and - where did he come from and why was he here? How did he get out of prison?

" _Joey_ ," Without explaining, Dad gripped Joey's upper arms tightly, his voice urgent and his single blue eye not black with anger, as it so often was.

" _Where_ are your brother and sister?"

Joey didn't know what to say, his mouth hung open stupidly, too badly shocked to respond in any sensible way and seeing he was practically talking to a wall, Slade started dragging him along by his arm as he quickly walked in a separate direction. Bette jogged after, as clueless as Joey was.

"What are you doing here?" Bette demanded when she managed to get over her surprise, though still not completely. Slade didn't look at her but he did acknowledge her question, which was more than he usually had the decency for.

"We need to find Rose and Grant." His already bruising fingers tightened on Joey as he spoke.

"I - I have his number if-"

"Call him. Tell him to get over here now. Rose too if you have her number."

"Rose was here with us but we can't find her anywhere."

Joey felt a tinge of fear when she said that because it made dad's already dark glare turn blacker than oil. He grit his teeth angrily, muttering a low vengeful,

" _Dammit_ , Wade."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plääh


End file.
